Coma
by Dragon Rider of Alagaesia
Summary: What if John hadn't died but been in a coma for the past fourteen years? What if Yassen had survived the bullet? Secrets unravel and the dark past catches up. After Snakehead. Follows cannon plot. Prepare for twists and turns. Not the usual AR fanfic.FIN.
1. Prolouge: The File

Summary: What if John hadn't died but instead, been in a coma for the past fourteen years? What if Yassen had survived the bullet shot? And what happens when they both wake up without Alex knowing about either. After Snakedhead. Follows Cannon.(sorta)

A/N- Okay, I've always wanted to read a story where John survives and Yassen also survives and meets John(again) so, since nobody else has brought John back to life(shame on you), I decided to take a shot at it. This chapter is just opening the story, and is, quite frankly...pretty boring. But I just wanted to get some ideas for the next chappies and get your opinions on what you think of this idea...anyways...sorry about the crappy chapter. The rest will be much better than this.

Prologue

James Hoskins was an observant man. He always remained alert in his occupation. He would work late into the night, researching and comparing diseases, symptoms, and of course, cures. The main point was always to help people. It was why he had become a doctor in the first place, and out of his thirty years of flawless surgeries and some slightly pained experiences, he had done no wrong nor made a single mistake in his line of work. Dr. Hoskins was a careful man. And this was why it surprised James Hoskins when he stumbled upon a misplaced file in his secretary's office.

The file had no label or subject heading.

_Odd._

He would have to question Ms. Morgan as soon as she arrived back from her vacation**(aka, holiday) **in Paris. Gently, he opened the file's clipping and skimmed through it.

It was blank.

Well, almost... There was only one word...or technically, numbers.

_Room 301_

Chuckling to himself, he closed the manilla envelope and slowly pulled himself to his feet. The hospital only had three hundred patient and surgery rooms and that was common knowledge. He had been through the building countless times, greeting the Co-workers and wishing luck to the departing patients. He was the senior practitioner**(or doctor, or GP)** and therefore highly respected and trusted. Even if there were to be confidential information, he would immediately be notified.

And with all those facts in mind, J. Hoskins closed the door and walked away, still holding the file. He would look into this later but now, it wasn't critical.

If only he had bothered to glance at the date labeled on the back of the envelope,

And the initials carefully printed on the front.

_J.R_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was a strange feeling, sleeping that is. The world around you is meaningless. People no longer matter. And time itself begins to no longer exist. Of course then, you wake up and get on with your life, seeing the same people and living the same way as always.

This wasn't the case for Yassen Gregorovich, however. He hadn't woken up the next morning, or the morning after that. No, he had been void to the world for months, in a deep, dreamless sleep. Nothing existed to him. He felt nothing, thought nothing, knew nothing.

The last event he remembered was a bullet striking his chest.

_Then there was a man...no...a boy..._

He slowly drifted back to reality as his eyes gradually began to focus.

_...Alex..._

Somewhere near him a machine beeped and whirred. Was this death? He was supposed to be dead. He had been ready to die.

_Where am I?_

At that moment it became clear to him that he was in a white room. The walls were white, the bed, and the raucous machines beside him.

_...machines..._

His thoughts were still foggy but he understood that he was in a medical room of some nature. Trying to lift his head, and failing, he heard a soft gasp in the distance...or maybe closer...it was heard to tell in this state.

"...Oh!...Mary! I think he's awake!"

More than one voice could be heard now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"What are we supposed to do?" A young nurse asked urgently. She had never encountered an awakened coma victim in her very short intern experience.

"Notify any family members immediately", Mary Jayle said calmly typing and searching for the designated file of the patient. The computer sounded in sharp clicks and responded quickly.

"...wait...oh... Well, it appears that there are no immediate listed relatives", She commented flatly.

"You mean...he's alone?" The nurse glanced back toward the lone room at the end of the corridor. She loved her family. She depended upon them for everything. A life alone...was a very hard thing to imagine in her view.

Mary rolled her eyes at the younger woman. Alice had tendencies to overreact and dramatize the situations that occurred more than often.

"He'll be fine Al."

Alice narrowed her eyes.

"How would you know."

Mary shrugged and stood up.

"I'll get some meds to wake him up a little. But trust me...he'll be fine..."


	2. Daylight To Break

A/N- Okay, I made this chapter pretty long(I write it in 10 minutes :D total record!) I'm trying to keep minimum MI6 involvement in this story. They bother me. Especially Blunt the boring :P I mean, get a wardrobe change buddy! There's no need to be so...gloomy, all of the time...

Blunt: I prefer solemn colors.

Oh, I'll bet you do :O Ahem...moving on...

Disclaimer: If only, If only, the woodpecker sighs, the bark on the tree was as soft as the skies :P AH owns it. I do have every single Alex Rider book in my possession, sadly though, Anthony has chosen to keep the rights :(

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It was a short walk home, but it always felt extensive to Alex Rider as he walked home from school. So much had happened recently that is was hard to start over and return to his life left behind. From what Mrs. Jones had told him, they would never use him again, not after the bullet. He wouldn't be bothered anymore, or taken out of school. He was free.

And yet---

He wasn't.

The truth had torn him apart, leaving no pieces behind. Would he ever be able to trust anyone? He doubted it. Ash had been a ghost from the past, nothing more. He hadn't been his godfather. He had been his potential killer.

Ash had been his parents killer.

Recently, he had begun thinking a lot about his parents. What were they really like? Did his father suspect Ash?

_Or d__id he trust him like me?_

A bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Life had it's ways of torturing him. This was one of them. It felt like he would always be alone, only to watch other people dying around him.

Clutching his backpack, Alex opened the door to the apartment.

"Jack! Jack, I'm home!" He called out.

As he walked inside, he couldn't help realizing the truth of his new life. He could do whatever he wanted. Nobody would ever bother him again. It wasn't like he was about to jump into the next terrorist threat or crime meeting that appeared again.

Smiling to himself, he dropped his back down. At least one good thing had come from the bullet. There would be no more surprises in his life.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

James Hoskins had indeed awaited his secretary's return. In addition to a rather large pile of cluttered paperwork, he had a question to ask her. It was about the file he had found. After not only speaking with several of his co-workers, but also to the retired architect of the hospital, he was certain of one thing, and one thing only.

The architect had appeared confused when he was asked if he had built on any rooms after the hospital was built. To his knowledge, there hadn't ever been a room 301. Talks with workers had struck similar responses.

It shouldn't have bothered him. In truth, it made little difference to his life whether there was an unknown room in the hospital.

However, it was his business if there was an overlooked file in his hospital. He would be held responsible for any mishaps.

Therefore, had had waited for Holly Morgan's return.

---But she had never come back.

The only good-bye he received from his secretary was an application for resignation.

Coincidence?

...maybe...probably...

Or perhaps, it was fate's way of warning him not to ignore the file. For some odd reason, he felt drawn to it, and realized, with growing interest, that it had suddenly become _his_ responsibility.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Mr. Crawford was a solemn man. He had been described as cold and blunt. People had also informed him of his lack of conversation and civility.

All of this meant very little to Crawford.

He had one objective. And that was to hunt down every sick terrorist or international threat that dared to set foot in his country. Yes, he had been through many dangerous situations. He had also encountered several treacherous people, every now and then. Out of all of this experience, he had at least learnt one main lesson.

A good spy couldn't let even the smallest quirk go unnoticed.

For if he did, it could quite realistically, cost him his life.

And this is what had made Mr. Crawford remember his own wise lecture. Two weeks ago, a foreign contact temporarily placed in the Greenville Hospital(for safe, bloodless, spy internship, training purposes, no doubt)had filed his weekly report(Well, 'practice' report anyway)and Crawford had been assigned to assess it.

_Ugh...in other words, they want me to act as a school teacher and grade some amateur's class work. Ridiculous._

_Absolutely ridiculous._

Yes, he had tried to cheat himself out of it by just barely skimming one page.

Reading that one page however had caused several details to stick out.

Report 00732

Filed by Operative "_1BNG007__"_

1:20- Several doctors/nurses have casual talk in conference room. STOP

1:21- A doctor is now attempting to flatter an attractive nurse by complimenting her on her, somewhat revolting lemon colored shoes. STOP

1:25- Pretty nurse has fled the room, leaving a heart-broken man all alone...grieving for his beloved-

_...I can't stand rookie spies... So full of themselves and eager to make fun of things...__ And since when have we allowed newly charged agents to choose their own names?_

_One Bang, 007 James Bond?__ Give me a break...)_

-sweetheart, who has left him. Alone and withering. Will keep tab on nurse. May soon show up as murder suspect. STOP

_Honestly..._

1:29- James Hoskins, head of medical department, joins staff for casual coffee and tea/conversational chat. STOP

2:00- J.H leaves room, after asking questions about a room 301. Workers have no answers. He appears perplexed. Perhaps he has misplaced the room 301...Will check to see if it is possible to lose a room in a generally small hospital. STOP

2:10-Doctors/nurses continue their gossip about difficult patients. Will contact patient rep. to see if this is considered illegal harassment. This agent doubts it. STOP

5:00- Agent has noted several unusual occurrences. Rejected, woman-repelling doctor nearly burned his throat while drinking hot tea. This agent suspects it to be treason from the pretty, though probably evil, nurse.

5:22-Holly Morgan, secretary resigned today, appearing to perplex J.H even more. This guy seriously has a lot of problems for the head doctor around here. Will refer him to a shrink. STOP

5:30- After being rudely ignore by mister, I'm-better-than-you, I ironically found an unlabeled file in his briefcase, with room 301 typed on it and some barely legible initials on the back. At the moment I am pretty sure it is legal for me to go through a suspect's belongings. STOP.

_Actually...that isn't a bad question..._

There were plenty of more notes that were sure to include senseless remarks, but he instantly picked out James Hoskins.

So, he had an unlabeled file---

To a room that didn't exist.

---And nobody knew anything about it.

And yet, still, Doctor Hoskins seemed to be determined to find 301...or whatever he really was looking for anyway.

It might be something, though it was probably nothing. Either way, it was his duty-bound way to confirm any possible suspicions. Besides, he had been trapped doing office work for a couple years now. MI6 claimed he was now all washed up, useless for Secret Intelligence. He disagreed.

_It couldn't hurt, I suppose...to just check up on things._

And, of course, he absolutely would.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen was having quite a day, waking up to find himself in an undersized medical center. The first person he had come in contact with was a young and rather flustered nurse. She was obviously new to her job, and also rather oblivious as to who he was and how he had arrived in a small, unguarded, and typically safe hospital.

_...unguarded..._

So, MI6 hadn't rescued him. If they had, he would no doubt be at a small clinic in a maximum security prison right now.

And if SCORPIA had rescued him... Well, they wouldn't have rescued him. If they had found him, he would be dead right now.

There were obviously few options as to the process of arriving in this facility. He weighed them up in his head.

Situation 1, someone had mistaken him for a soldier or unknown person and had therefore taken him to a near medical center.

Situation 2, someone had recognized him, but had taken him to a hospital without reporting it anyway.

Situation 3, other reasons that are currently unknown.

Barely shrugging, he wiped situation three from his mind. He had no friends...or even allies for that matter. The last person he could even remember that had managed to gain his trust had been...

John Rider...

But he was dead now. And, like many events in life, Yassen had buried it deep within himself, not daring to let emotions resurface. The last time he had let that happen had been with Alex, and they both ended up getting shot.

He chuckled to himself, hardly believing that Alex had been wearing a bullet resistant jacket the whole time.

Dropping the smile from his face, he sat up weakly. No, he was not yet fully recovered, but he would be soon. And when some of his strength returned, he would disappear before his whereabouts were found.

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Read and Review!!! C'mon, even I review the stories I read(and I read an awful lot of stories at that :D)

The more reviews I get the more encouraged I become to write better, longer, and more quickly updated chapters ;)

Oh, and here's a quick questionnaire to answer on your review if you have the time.

1. Who do you think should be the first person to find out John is alive? The first one to meet him?

2. How do you think Yassen got at the hospital(is that what you call them in the UK too? I don't know...)? I sorta blanked out when writing that part, but didn't want MI6 to have captured him like every other story.

3. Should Tom/Jack/Wolf/Fox/or someone else become a main character in this story?

4. Is it true that Brits eat spaghetti on toast? If it is, then that is so cool! I'm sooo moving to Britian :D(I eat everything on toast) If not...I'm the most easily convinced person there is... In fact, that's probably true. My aunt once told me they ate dogs in France(my relatives love bullying me because I'm the youngest in our entire family tree...I have a gazillion cousins, and their all JERKS:P), so when I was talking to my relatives living in France I asked them why they hadn't eaten their pet dog yet...yes, they looked at me rather oddly. OO

R&R and I'll update faster! And if you have me on Story Alert, then for goodness sake's, REVIEW!!! It only takes thirty seconds...unless you type long, and generally annoying ones...like me :D


	3. Yesterdays

A/N- Sorry it took so long to update, I'm currently busy with piano, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, flute, foreign language, shooting whatever I can think of with my video camera, baby-sitting, homework, SOL's, early college applications, film school applications, and c'mon! I have to squeeze movies and reading in there:D

Yassen: You only know one second language? Pathetic! I know eight, and, I'm working on my ninth!

Me: Show-off! Oh, and for your info, I know two second languages. Spanish and German. Though my parents claim that English is my second language, on account of, I use slang all the time... :D

Yassen: Usted es absolutamente pathetic!(You are absolutely pathetic!)

Me: Hey, don't call me pathetic! I'm the one that brought you back to life. Gee, respect it:P

Um...read on, while I fight my own mind :O

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Anthony Horowitz wrote. I say we unite and buy off AH's books and bring Yassen back to life...Yes! It's a perfect plan:D

Yassen: Nicht wirlich...(not really)

Me: Oh man! You ARE good :O I'm paranoid now...-runs off-

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It was clear tonight. The hallways were silent. And the nurses were scarce.

After three weeks, Yassen could finally feel his strength returning, and his mind felt clearer, more intact.

He still had no idea how he had been placed in such a low security facility.

But he would find out.

And---

He would leave. Tonight.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

James Hoskins and the reporting agent had agreed to meet him in the faculty lunch area. Reading the

hospital signs seemed more complex than necessary, but he eventually arrived in the right destination,

none the less.

"Heeeey! Chief! We were waiting, like, forever..."

_Oh great..._

Crawford cringed. He disliked new agents.

"And I think the Doc has some pretty weird theories. But let's keep it hush-hush. Ya know, just in case..."

He took it back. He_ despised _new agents.

Dr. Hoskins was sitting on a plain, metal chair. He looked reluctant. Probably thought that he would be

labeled on as crazy no doubt.

He wouldn't have been the first.

"Hello Mr.-"

"- Lakes. Jimmy Lakes" Jimmy finished for him.

"-Lakes."

The file was on the table. Reaching out, he picked it up and lifted the cover, turning back toward James

Hoskins.

"Dr. Hoskins. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."

"Bringing what? This could be nothing..."

"It probably _is_ nothing. Now where did you find it?"

Mr. Hoskins shrugged.

"In my secretary's desk. I was cleaning it out. And it has the official medical stamp on it. So, I knew it was

real hospital admittance."

"Hmm..." Crawford trailed off and glanced off at Jimmy in the corner.

He had his chin resting on his hands and his head staring toward the ceiling, uninterested. Crawford

raised his eyebrows and purposefully looked at him until Jimmy finally realized that someone was

watching him.

"Huh? What?"

"And did you look for anything listed under 301,in addition to rooms?"

"...yep, I've got nothing... But I didn't physically look in any other hospital owned buildings, if that helps

any."

It might.

"Doctor Hoskins, what other buildings are there?"

"...W-well, there's the surgery facility, research center, and outpatient building."

The surgery unit didn't have any rooms, so he skipped that one. And the outpatient building only had

two main rooms, a waiting room and the check in office. It couldn't be either.

Surprisingly, Jimmy probably had the same idea.

"We could check the research place, just for the heck of it."

Crawford nodded in agreement.

"Dr. Hoskins, what is the facility used for?"

"It _was _once used for experimenting on new surgeries, when new discoveries were made. In fact, one of

the first treatments for cancer was available there. I suppose it isn't used for much of anything now,

though. I have even filed a letter to the medical board, request to tear it down. The place is a mess."

"So, you have not been through all of it?"

"...no..."

That was all he needed to know.

"Mr. Lakes, please follow me. Dr. Hoskins may accompany us if he wishes so."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Stepping out of the small room, dressed only in a simple, bleached, pastel white doctor's uniform(which

he had found in a supply closet), Yassen moved toward the nurse's station, located at the end of the

corridor on that particular wing.

It was empty. The hospital security guard, or floor manager, would no doubt be scanning the rooms

around this late hour.

Yassen headed toward the long, oval, information desk and carefully lifted himself into a seat facing the

computer. He inwardly sighed. The hard drive was already logged into.

He typed in his room number.

_3078_

A file popped up and revealed his own picture. Or, at least, the man did greatly resemble him.

In fact, the face looked familiar.

He double clicked the file and it opened up. Studying the details, he scrolled down.

Name: Landon Javenson

Age: 26

Force: S.I Guard( U.S)

Yes, know he remembered. Yassen had shot him in air force one. It was a wonder that Yassen even

recognized him at all. He usually never even so much as glanced at the people he dealt with, at the risk

of making his job too difficult.

The American Military had mistaken Yassen for Strategic Intelligence.

Which probably meant he was currently located in an American hospital...in the U.S...and...

---If they were to find the real body...

Yassen shut down the computer system with a flick of his finger.

And left.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey Alex, what are you doing your science report on, anyway?" Tom shouted as he kicked the football

**(or soccer)**toward his friend.

Alex seemed distant and took a while to reply.

"...don't know yet, guess I'll have to copy yours, " He teased.

Tom pretended to pout.

"Better not. My report is a sure fire A plus." **(I don't know ****how the grading scale is done ****in the UK...)**

Smiling to himself, Alex shrugged.

"And by your report, you mean the report you asked your sister to do. And then you put your name on

it..."

"...well...I did most of the work..."

Alex gave his friend an "I don't think so" look.

"Okay, okay! Can I help having a scientific genius for a sibling??"

"I guess not. So what did your sister do it on?"

He tossed the ball back at Tom, and it bounced of his knee, onto the mildewed grass.

"Artificial sleeping...or something stupid like that. I think it's a report investigating the life support

systems for coma victims...kinda creepy..."

"Very." Alex agreed.

Alex felt content for once. And waving goodbye to his friend, he headed back home, still at ease.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh my- Is he..._dead_?" Jimmy asked with widened eyes in pure terror.

"I don't think so..." James Hoskins replied. He went over to the machine. A body was encased in plastic,

with wires attached to the arms, and a oxygen mask to the face. He noted a heartbeat. There was a

control system attached to it, though not very large. Other than that, the room was small, barely larger

than a pantry.

"He's alive." The doctor assured his companions.

"Whoa...but how'd he get here??"

"I'm not sure. This will be reported, I assure you," Dr. Hoskins spat angrily. How could someone leave a

living, breathing human being, in a hospital none the less, without having told someone. It infuriated

him.

They had found the room in the research center, locked, but easily broken into as far as Jimmy was

concerned. This should have been obvious. _Someone_ knew about this. Or knew.

Jimmy shivered, still perturbed at the sight of a unresponsive body.

"Hey, Crawford. What do you think?" He called out and turned around.

But Crawford wouldn't answer him. He was staring at the body, and, he looked...scared suddenly.

"...Oh my God...John..."

James Hoskins failed to notice Crawford though, he was staring at the number printed on the technical

system. It was in bright, silver plated, printed letters.

_301_

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Loved it? Hated it? Was bored and decided to read just for the heck of it?

REVIEW!!!!!

Every review makes me update sooner. Suggestions are welcome. I have a general plot thought up, but

not a very specific one, so please, be my guest and feel free to suggest new plot directions, characters,

events, etc, etc...

Review! Review Review!


	4. What Goes Around Comes Around

Argh! My stupid computer has a habit of breaking up my sentences!!(anyone know how to fix that?)

To reviewers: Thank you!! Your reviews are what keeps the story going :D That, and Yassen has me at gunpoint at my computer right now...so...I better start writing... :O

–writes 'HELP ME' on the window-

Disclaimer: I don't ow-AAH! Don't pull the trigger Yassen!! I'm writing!! I'm writing!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You knew this man?"

"Yes...he..worked with me." Crawford replied. The after effect of shock left him trembling and sweating. This was all so confusing. What was he supposed to do? What could he possibly say to Alex?

Crawford had sent Jimmy to watch the newly discovered room, not only for fear of losing John again, but also for a private conversation with Dr. Hoskins.

"Can we wake him up James?" It was the first time Crawford had addressed him by his first sign. It was a sign of minor trust and, maybe, sheer fear.

"I'm not sure yet. We don't if he can survive the re-generating process. I mean, how old do you think he is?" James said, slowly drawing out the words.

A painful feeling nagged at Crawford and he sighed. "He hasn't changed one bit in fourteen years James. To be honest he still looks like he's in his twenties. And, I was five years younger than him when he "died". Now, I look years older than him."

Hoskins nodded. "Exactly. That's what had me stumped, until, I realized what we're really dealing with here. That man behind the glass was part of more than a simple surgery. This project was secret, probably only known by a handful of people. This technology...it's almost like it's...well, held him in a permanent vegetative state for all these years, and stopped growth or aging of any type. Even his hair hasn't grown an inch."

"Is...is that even possible?"

"You saw it, didn't you?"

_I did see him. I don't believe it though. I don't believe any of this...it's too strange..._

"Yes...but what do I do now? I feel like I shouldn't tell MI6. If this leaks out, _everyone _will know. John had enemies. We have to protect him._**I**_ have to protect my friend."

James nodded and put his hand on Crawford's shoulder in attempt to comfort.

"We'll find a way to save John. They wouldn't have kept him alive just to die. I'll find a way to wake him up safely. "

Crawford sighed and lowered his head. "Someone has to explain this to Alex."

He received a questioning look.

"His son", he explained, "Alex is just fourteen years old. I don't even know if he would trust me enough to believe me...but...if you're right, and John does come out alive. At least something good will come out of it...for Alex's sake. From what I saw fourteen years ago, John would have given his life for his son."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In deep thought, they were both unaware of a sleek, black car parked several feet outside the building. It had them bugged and had heard the conversation. The man seated in the car smiled with a wicked grin. This was a gold mine.

He took out his phone and flipped it open. Dialing a few memorized numbers, he put the speaker to his ear.

"...yeah, that's right...it's him alright...get the kid and meet me in twelve hundred hours. Oh, and this time J., don't leave _any_ witnesses..."

If only Crawford had not been so distracted he might have noticed the desolate car. He might have even recognized the man from one place or another. But Crawford didn't move a muscle in his peril. And doing so, he ignored another key component in his career--

One thing every good spy knew, was that your past never leaves you. It could very well come back to haunt you.--

--Again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cradling a football in one arm, Alex was walking toward his home. It was still light outside, though the sun was now setting. The furious red splotches sprinkled around the sun unperturbed Alex. He smiled down the street to no one in particular. Jack was waiting for him inside, no doubt.

Reaching his front steps, he paused. The door was open.

_I closed it before I left._

"Jack?" he called out and stepped inside. Dropping the checkered ball, he shrugged. Jack had probably left the door open by accident.

_But she never does that..._

A scream sounded from somewhere in the house. "Jack!" Alex yelled and tried to run forward, but suddenly felt himself being grabbed from behind. A muscular arm wrapped itself around his neck from an unseen attacker. Alex struggled and clawed at the arms. Raising his left leg in stance, he kicked the kneecap of his enemy, and heard a grunt from behind as confirmation of the hit. Trying to 

wriggle out of the grasp, Alex panicked. His mind wasn't working fast enough, he just couldn't think, and-

He heard a gunshot.

_No!_

"JACK! JA-" His mouth was muffled as the intruder slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up!"

Approaching steps sounded from the front of the house. Another figure emerged, but Alex couldn't see him clearly because he was wearing all black and a mask.

_Why is everything moving so fast?_

Dizziness engulfed his nerves as black blotches started to appear. The grip around his neck tightened.

_He's trying to choke me to death!_

Alex braced himself for death, and closed his eyes. But then he heard an angry voice hiss out, " Idiot! Don't kill him! We need him."

The grasp around his neck loosened...well enough so it wouldn't kill him anyway... Gradually, his head started to clear, and he suddenly remembered the situation he was in. Tensing his arms, he lunged forward, twisting out of the arms holding him. Trying to get up, he ran into the second man. His mask was off, and he looked annoyed. Alex was sure had never seen the bronze haired man with firm build before. He seemed to give off a soldier-like stature in mannerisms.

_Ow!_

Shrinking back to the ground, Alex felt his energy instantly sink. He barely had time to glance at the needle mark in his right arm. He had been stung by a hyperthermic_**(A/N-is that how you spell it?) **_needle.

Alex drifted to unconsciousness and scarcely heard the conversation between the two people in front of him.

"...what about the woman?"

"...taken care of..."

_No..._

His eyes closed and that was the last thing Alex knew.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The engine groaned when Crawford twisted his key and drove his car, and broke the silence of the quiet street. He dreaded this, but there was no possibility in which he would wait to explain the situation to Alex. What if John woke up before he had a chance to enlighten Alex? The prospect of it made him shudder. No, this may be an uncomfortable affair. But it was still happening, and he wasn't about to be reeled in like a fish by Alex, or even MI6.

_I certainly can't begin to explain this to them...not yet... I'll wait and see if John is responsive._

He pulled into the dim, un lightened driveway. The shady setting only added to his anxiousness.

_-Just like on a film screen...the only difference is that this is real..._

Shuffling his shoes in procrastination, just like he had done as a child, Crawford went to knock on the door. He had only been here three times previously.

The first time was to meet the two Rider brothers and sum up if they were MI6 material(they were).

The second was to inform Ian about his brother's death (though he had already seen the plane explode on the news...).

And, the third and final time was the first time he had seen Alex. Crawford had been assigned to assign Ian to his mission at Cornwall. He had sent him to his death, and had lost many a nights sleep knowing what he had done to Ian...to Alex.

So here he was once again, only this time, he wasn't here to see Ian.

Knocking on the door, Crawford flinched. He still hadn't thought of what to say.

_Hello Alex! Do you remember me? You know, the one that helped your uncle go behind your back for years and lie to you about your parents death? Well, guess what, I lied twice..._

That was not his idea of a good way to start...

_Why isn't someone answering?_

He rang the doorbell. No answer.

It was impersonal, not to mention illegal, he shouldn't have done it...but, Crawford had an instinct, and opened the door.

_It's not locked!_

Unlocked doors were number seven on the list of "Suspicious" for MI6 agents. It was number two on his list.

"Hello?" When no answer came, Crawford let himself into the house and looked for any sign of disturbance.

_Calm down... They probably just went out for a walk._ _And...left the door open...of course...you're brilliant Crawford!_

He was beginning to get a headache from his inner voices. In fact, he was so engrossed in his thoughts that Crawford nearly missed the small, silver object on the floor. He picked it up.

It was the cap to a needle...the sort that was used before surgery in a hospital, or-

_Oh no..._

Frantically, he searched the house and found himself running up the steps.

"ALEX!" He screamed. Crawford had been through dozens of internationally threatening missions. He had traveled to countries whose names were not allowed to be known. He had dared death to touch him and dealt with some of the most dangerous criminals in the world.

But, he had never touched the concept of someone else being in danger, someone who had already been in enough danger...

"Alex! Ms. Starbright!" He was losing his breath and stopped running. His hand felt for something sturdy to be supported against and felt wood. He was standing in a doorway, to a bedroom or office probably. It was hard to tell in the dark.

What he saw was nearly too much for him too take in. He didn't need this. Not here. Not now.

Jack Starbright was sprawled on the carpeted floor, lifeless.

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A/N- Whoo! I'm glad that's over...Yassen was making me nervous with his gun. Speaking of which, Yassen will be back in the next chappie. I just didn't want to put him in if it was only for a few lines. Here's some questions if you have time.

1. Do you like Crawford(or Crawley...I just like the name Crawford better...)?

2. How should Yassen and Alex meet again? or should Yassen meet John first?

3. Who should be the criminal? Any ideas for the personality, nationality, etc...

I was listening to the song What goes around Comes around while writing this chapter...it seemed very appropriate for the chapter. :D I'll make a fan vid for this after I finish the story...and 'probably' use that song...anyways...

PLEASE REVIEW!! One word will make me happy(well, depending on the word :O)


	5. Falling Up

A/N-Yes, I am alive. Yassen has allowed me to live thus far.

Disclaimer: wish i did. don't

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_Click Click._

His hard rubber soled shoes clacked against the marble floor. It was early he assumed. The sun was fully out and visitors were coming in to see their ill loved ones. Maybe an hour or two past opening hours. Sure, he _could_ have arrived earlier. But, truth was, he wasn't sure he _could_ have actually handled himself.

He was a soldier. And, a good one at that. Amazing in fact.

--But what he had seen at Air Force One wasn't so amazing.

In fact, it had been frightening. Disturbing. Wrong.

The one day he had taken a day off of work, the private airport was invaded and many-well, _most, _of the workers were killed. Not just guards though. Flight attendants too. Innocent young women who were planning to go home to their children later that day. They were shot multiple times and some were even knifed to death as they struggled.

Those people would never come home. And, for some reason the government felt a need to keep the event highly classified information. Even he didn't know the full story and would, no doubt, be in trouble if someone found out how much he knew.

David couldn't understand how high officials would explain the disappearance of the workers to their families. He didn't even know what had happened exactly, other than an attempted take-over situation had hijacked the President's plane.

But one fact, that he did know was that his younger brother was dead.

And David Javenson was not a forgiving man.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex woke suddenly with a jerk and twisted his neck around to get a better view of his surroundings. His hands were bound and he felt groggy. The drug they gave him hadn't worn off much yet so his limbs were almost near lifeless themselves.

Pushing his back up was difficult. It felt as if he was glued to the floor. But he eventually strained himself enough to lean against a near by wall. And then he realized the wall was vibrating.

Blinking twice, slowly, Alex adjusted his eyes to the darkness and only saw four rectangular walls. There was a small, square window in front of him. But it was closed and he wouldn't have been able to reach it anyway.

So, he was in some truck and couldn't move.

_That doesn't leave me with a whole lot to go on, _Alex mused.

He looked for something sharp to rub his bonds against but found none. The only object in the van was listless, limp body.

But it didn't make sense for them to only drug him for part of the journey. That probably meant that they hadn't given him enough sedation by accident.

That left Alex with the element of surprise and he hoped it would be enough.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

'_beeeep'_

The airport door buzzed in approval and the attendant waved him forward. Yassen stepped soundlessly and made his way forward. It had gone well so far. No one had stopped him and thanks to his preparation for unlikely situations, he had an alias made years ago that was good for any country in the Western hemisphere. Preparation was just another lesson that John Rider had taught him.

In fact, at this moment he was not Yassen Gregorovich. No, he was Adam Alloway His homeland was New Zealand and he had been in the US simply for a investment deal. The plane would take him straight to the UK where he would continue his private investment business.

Or, at least--

That was what his _passport_ said anyway...

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

This was pure boredom. He was so bored right now, he would have read a book if he'd had one with him. Not just a picture book either. One of those colossal chapter ones that he always skipped through school.

"Remind me _again_ why we aren't telling anyone about the dead guy in the next room?!"

"He's not dead."

Jimmy rolled his eyes and stood up to stretch his muscles that had not moved for several dull hours.

"Okay, sure, whatever... But why aren't we telling anyone?! Is this _illegal_? Are you making me an accomplice to a crime or something doc?! Look, I have a clean record! Well, not counting the couple cars I totalled at-"

"-Listen to me! I'm not a criminal. What happened to this man _i__**s**_criminal. I'm just trying to help what should have never happened. If the authorities get hold of this then so will the media, and then any hope for a normal chance at what small possibility this man has for life is _**gone.**_ Gone. Zip. Never again. Do you understand what I'm saying Mr. Lakes?"

Doctor Hoskins waited for an answer from the young man who was pacing across the room.

"Yeah. Yeah...whatever...No need to get all sobby about it doc. I'm just tryin' to say that he looks pretty dead to me..."

James smiled. "You have your moments kid, you know that right?"

"Whatever."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Third row to the back. Aisle seat, sir. Please let us know if you require anything."

"Thank you."

A flight attendant had directed Adam-Yassen to his seat. He calmly sat and glanced down the rows. The jet did not seem crowded at all. This must not have been tourist season. Frowning to himself Yassen realized that he did not even know what season it was. The bullet had not been so kind with his, usually, sharp mind.

He would just have to fix that.

Scanning the plane, more carefully this time, he still viewed few people. There was a younger boy beside him. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years of age. Though he would never admit to such thoughts, Yassen wondered why he was traveling alone. _**If**_, by some strange miracle at the end of the world, Yassen had a child of his own, he wouldn't let him ride a desolate plane to another country, alone.

_Why do I care? I shouldn't worry about that. It's none of my business._

Sighing to himself, he sunk deeper into the seat. The boy reminded him of Alex. That was why it bothered him. Nothing more than a figure that triggered his memory. That was it.

And once again, he wondered what Alex was doing at that moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex was standing up now. The car slowed to a minimal speed. This was it. He would escape now or never. He had one chance to get this right.

Flexing his muscles against the bonds proved useless, but it started the circulation in his arms comfortably.

The car stopped and he was ready.

As soon as the door opened with a tiny stream of light peeking through, he lunged.

"What the-OW!"

He had landed on the man in front of him and quickly stood up and ran for it. A building was in the distance, but it was too far away to make out. Alex looked every direction but found nothing but trees. He was in the middle of nowhere.

"Don't move!" The man screamed out.

But of course, Alex didn't listen.

No, instead he ran deeper into the woods and didn't dare look back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hey. Hey buddy. _Excuse me_."

Yassen cracked open one of his eyes. The boy was saying something. What was wrong with him? It seemed like the flight had just started and Yassen was trying to get rest for once. Heaven knows he hadn't ever had _that _chance before.

"Hello? Are you awake?"

He opened both eyes and frowned at the person by the window.

"No offense, but is everyone in America this rude?"

The boy looked annoyed. "None taken. I'm Canadian, jerk."

"Ah, I see. Well, if you will be so kind as to be quiet during the flight."

Yassen leaned back to close his eyes again.

"Wait! I was just trying to ask you if you knew what time it was!"

He sighed. Why hadn't the boy said that in the first place? Honestly, teenagers today were raised to be babbling idiots. Yassen knew this because he was usually the one that killed those idiots.

" I don't know. Goodbye."

Once again, he tried to close his eyes but was interrupted.

"Do you think the flight attendant would know?"

"Yes-No-how should I know? Is it really that necessary?"

"I need to meet my cousin at the right time. He's usually really late, or really early or- Okay, so he's kind of an idiot..."

Yassen nearly half smiled to himself. He was always correct.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He ran faster. The wind pulled at his face and Alex began to sweat. He abruptly stopped and leaned over to take a breath.

A leaf cracked and someone grabbed him around the waist.

"Let go!"

"Calm down."

With one hand still around his waist, another hand reached up toward the back of his neck. The man pressed hard on a pressure point. Alex screamed and struggled which only made the man hold tighter in his vice-grip.

"Just calm down, okay."

This wasn't fair. None of it was. This was supposed to be over. He hated MI6. He hated everything.

"Oh Jack..."He sobbed and then passed out as black spots danced in his eyes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Miss Starbright..." Crawford said. She was bleeding, badly. Someone had used a knife to subdue her and there was blood all over the cream colored carpet.

Crawford gently lifted her motionless body up into his arms and carried her out of the house.

If this was the shape she was in, he dreaded to think of what had happened to Alex.

And, above all--

Why?!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N-So there you go. Please review. It keeps a story going. ;)

Sorry for being so mean to Jack, and Alex, and Yassen, and-...You get the point --

1) Do you want Jack to live?(mean question, I know)

2)What characters do you not like? Which ones do you like?

3) Ideas? Suggestions? Subtle directions for this story to go?

Aha! For the people that don't believe in reviewing, I now have Yassen on my payroll. And, he has a gun :D

-evil laughter in background-


	6. Ammunition

Okay, so maybe I've been a 'little' mean to Alex. –shifts eyes- But he's tough! He can deal! Mwauahaha...

And to those people who are wondering how Yassen,(aka, Mr. Most-wanted-all-over-the-world)could get sneak across a high security airport unnoticed...well...let's just say he knows what he's doing :D That, and, airport workers are idiots in my stories.

To readers: Thank you for reading :)

To Anthony Horowitz: Thank you for not creating a lawsuit against me :)

Disclaimer: I may not now, but oh, I will...I will –evil laughter-

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The week had been pointless. Useless. Full of nothing.

He had tried. Truly, he had. There was nothing that he wanted more in the world than to find out why his brother was killed.

But maybe, it wasn't just that. The air felt colder now. People passed by soundlessly. Nobody saw him. His eyes didn't find them. Gravity had stopped in his head and something new had replaced much of his mind.

No, David might never admit it to himself, but he wanted more than just the truth.

He wanted vengeance. Revenge.

And he wanted to hunt down every being that so much as had caught whispers in the wind of what happened and hadn't stopped it. He would kill them like they had so mercilessly destroyed his little brother. Bottom line; They would pay.

And this is what flashed through David Javenson's head as he sat blankly on his plane flight to London.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He awoke once again, the same way he had so many times in the past year. The menace of the whole situation still lingered in his memory. Alex was about to drive himself mad with the unfairness of the concept. And just when things were looking up...

Squinting his eyes to adjust them to the dense, almost foggily lighted room, Alex noticed he was sitting on an average sized, sturdy, metal chair. Trying to move his fingers for circulation he frowned.

_Ah, scratch that first part. _He was bound to chair by his hands. Luckily, his feet were free so it wasn't the worst news he could have foreseen. This might give him a chance for an-

"I hope you're not thinking up plans of escape..."

Alex jumped in surprise at the sound of the voice. But it is hard to jump very high when you are tied to a chair.

There, in a corner, now walking towards him was the bronze haired man again. Alex had seen him only once. Yes, he did have the air of a soldier. Confidence was written so clearly across his face. And he appeared completely at ease. Calm. Secure.

Alex was quite unsettled at the moment himself.

The man was now within four inches of Alex's face. He frowned.

"You're younger than I expected."

Alex shrugged weakly. "I get that a lot..."

But the man paid no mind. His brow creased. "They didn't tell me we were taking a kid," He said more to himself than anything else.

"Why am I here?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Where am I?!"

"I can't tell you that either, mate."

Alex glared at him, suddenly alert. This conversation lacked the logic he was looking for.

"Well...then what are you going to do with me?"

The soldier man straightened up some. "Hopefully nothing for your sake. If things go according to plan and they cooperate, then you can walk away without a scratch."

"...You're talking about MI6? They won't do anything to get me back. You're wasting your time." It was worth a shot. Alex didn't think the man would kill him if he couldn't get anything out of it. He didn't give off the senseless killing attitude Alex was familiar with.

But this obviously wasn't the case. The soldier man suddenly widened his eyes. Surprise flickered across his face. Then he regained composure,

"I must say I am shocked. And here I thought he was lying when he told me that you worked for Secret Intelligence. Perhaps it is a genetic streak"

"You...didn't know that?"

" I do now."

"Then who are you talking about?"

The soldier, as Alex had started to refer to him as dropped his eyebrows once again.

"You don't know do you? John Crawford didn't tell you before-"

Alex suddenly remembered something.

"-before you killed Jack!" His eyes bore down on the solemn man and he spat at his feet. Grinding his teeth, Alex was plainly furious. The man was bored.

"You need to stop doing that."

"Don't tell me what to do and not to do you bas-"

"-She's not dead Alex. Not yet."

Alex blinked.

"I didn't kill her. She wouldn't cooperate peacefully, so I simply subdued her."

"_Oh, _**she** wasn't the peaceful one, was she? Wow, I would've never guessed it by the blood curling scream filling my home..."He fumed.

"Don't take it so personally Alex. You will see her soon. She will be fine. And you both can get on with your lives. Don't worry about it."

This position made no sense in any form or kind. But Alex managed to calm down. There was a reason for all of this. He would figure it out eventually. With his breaths coming smooth and even, he addressed the man, still waiting for a response, in front of him,

"What is your name?"

The soldier sighed in impatience. "I can't tell you."

"Okay. What _can_ you tell me?!" Alex matched his mood of impatience.

"I'll get back to you on that one, kid."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Oh, that is _gross_!"

"It's just hair, Jimmy."

"Yeah, but do we know where it came from? It could be from _anywhere_ and _anything_. C'mon, you've got to admit, normal minded people don't send you hair inside an unlabeled envelope for fun."

"...point taken." James Hoskins stared at the yellowed envelope. Jimmy was gagging across the room.

"So, how long will it take?"

"For..?"

"For him to wake up?"

James glanced at the back room. he had cleared out the, for the most part, empty boxes and years old clutter. The once closet-room looked fresh out new. And smelt a lot better in his opinion.

"It could take days, Jimmy. And even when he wakes up, his vitals will have to be re-stabilized. I wouldn't get too excited about it."

Jimmy nodded politely. For once.

"Okay, can I take a break then? I need to pick up my cousin at the airport. He just finished up summer camp in the US and I promised him we would have sibling bonding time this summer and my aunt will kill me if I leave him at an airport alone."

_I'm surprised she hasn't done it yet..._

"Ah, I see. Go ahead. Keep this to yourself though."

"Can do. Have fun with the vegetable."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The world swayed. And then she came. Reaching out a delicate softened hand, she touched his own roughened palm and smiled.

_Helen?_

The woman was a ghost though. She had no reply. The deadly beautiful deep brown eyes stared into his own cold emerald ones. They were beckoning to him. Trying to tell him something.

"_Get up."_

_I don't want to leave you Helen. I love you. Let's stay here forever._

The angelic figure would not give up. She smiled and touched his cheek lovingly.

"_Wake up John."_

_I can't..._

The eyes were familiar. He didn't want to turn away from this angel.

"_Trust me."_

And then she leaned over, with her graceful posture and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

_I trust you..._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dr. Hoskins slipped the envelope on the desk. A few strands of hair and a short note were frankly a waste of his time. They had no meaning to him. The only fact of it that worried him was that someone left it in front of the door of a laboratory that supposedly nobody knew existed.

Shrugging, he dropped the note to the desk also. It read;

**You know what we want.**

And that was it. No heading. No signature. Nothing.

It posed little importance to James Hoskins.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well it's been fun Mr. Alloway" The annoying boy that sat beside throughout the entire flight hurried down the plane ramp.

Yassen grunted. It had not been 'fun'. If he wasn't an internationally known criminal, he would have pleaded his rights as a citizen and complained. At least his alias had passed without question though.

He stood up and walked down the steps of the plane. There was no line because there were few passengers to start with. A man walked aimlessly into him by accident. He grumbled a 'sorry' and glanced up at Yassen.

His eyes were dulled and un concentrated. If Yassen hadn't known better, he would have suspected the man was high on drugs or something of the similar interest. But of course Yassen knew better, and stared as the solemn man walked away. He seemed vaguely recognizable. Maybe Yassen was seeing the ghost of a target. Yes, it was a possibility, he mused.

"...What do you mean you've found a hidden machine?!"

_Oh..._

It was the boy that had sat next to him on the plane. And he was with an older boy. More of a young adult, really.

"Yes, I did. But you can't tell anyone. There's an old agent or something locked up inside..."

"Cool!"

"Yeah, I know, but keep this to yourself, okay?"

"Okay..."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay, let's go see a movie or something..."

And then they left. And Yassen watched them walk away. He felt a disturbing presence. As if a ghost from the past had been awakened.

But that was a foolish idea. Even for him.

Yassen too, walked away.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get that away from me!"

"It won't hurt much."

"BACK OFF!!"

Alex squirmed and kicked his feet, which were still unbound. He knew two things. One, the soldier man had a knife in his hand, and two; Alex was tied down without any defenses.

"You said I would walk away without a scratch!" he angrily spat out.

"I said _**if **_there was cooperation. There is no reply, so I assume there is no cooperation thus far. They obviously didn't take my last message seriously. So now I will get serious."

Alex had no idea what he was talking about, which only added to his rimmed panic.

"What?!"

"I cut a sample of your hair off while you were out, to prove that we really have you."

_Uh oh...this is not looking good..._

Alex thought back to the last time someone tried to cut off one of his fingers. He cringed at the thought.

But that man did not push the knife toward his fingers. He untied one of Alex's hands and turned his palm over. Then he lightly cut a gash across the smooth skin and lifted up a handkerchief Alex had failed to notice before. Alex felt faint when the man wiped the cloth across his bloody hand. Then he released the grip and dropped the cloth in a plastic bag.

_Well,_ thought Alex, _I suppose it could have been worse..._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She was fine. The knife had missed any organs and vital veins. Crawford thankfully smiled as he left the hospital. He had been a hard job explaining why she had gotten the wounds in the first place, but a flash of his MI6 badge took care of his worries.

_Huh._

An envelope was carefully placed in front of the door. As far as he could see there wasn't any address. It was probably a medical record that James had dropped.

So now he walked through the freshly cleaned office and looked for James. And, sure enough, he was sitting at his desk reading a heavy book on long term coma effects. Looking up from the desk, he waved him over.

"I think I can get the right equipment for his rehabilitation without trouble. I wish I could get my hands on the engineers who made that machine though. It's brilliant. Pure genius."

"I've been wondering about that too." And he placed the new envelope on Dr. Hoskins desk politely.

"I think you dropped this."

"No...that's not mine. But another one was left this morning." And James handed him the earlier, yellowed envelope. His face showed no worry.

Crawford slipped the contents out and felt his heart drop. He knew the fair, light hair.

When he opened the second envelope, Crawford felt sick. He didn't need a blood test to know the owner. He had suddenly thrust Alex into a dark game out f his own curiosity, and Alex was the one to pay.

At this moment, all of his thoughts of John were gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

John cracked open one eye, very slightly. Then it closed. He was awake. But he was so tired. The air felt heavy on his lips, and it was as if his heart was beating slower than he had ever experienced before. But,

--He was awake.

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A/N-Wow, that took all of my energy out. Let me know what you think. I 'finally' have a twist for the story :) So stay tuned!

If you want more chapters, review! ;D


	7. Adding To The Noise

"I have to go." Crawford grabbed his coat, which he had just started to take off, and stuffed the two envelopes into his right pocket hurriedly.

"Do you have any idea who sent them?" James questioned, suddenly baffled at the excitement.

"No."

"Perhaps it is from one of Alex's recent adversaries. You told me that he had a quite dangerous life this past year."

Crawford ground his teeth in impatience as he headed toward the door. The doctor didn't need to quiz him on the obvious. A first year recruit could have figured that out. But he was not an MI6 trainee, and _did _look farther than the obvious.

"That would be impossible." He shrugged out at the foot of the door.

"Oh yes...why?"

"I've taken seven years of espionage forgery classes and can tell you right now that the handwriting on the last note looks very much female. Men don't write that small or carefully, Dr. Hoskins."

And with that he walked out and slammed the door shut with a sharp _'snap'_.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The air remained moist and thick as he padded his thick black leathered boots onto the cobblestone street which now had grass peaking through it. He stopped, trying to recall the vaguely familiar surroundings. There was a quiet parking garage on the next block, a forbidding restaurant with a broken open sign where one of the letters were still flickering, and an out of service metro station.

_Ah._

That was it. No wonder it seemed alien to him. The underground train was broken and decayed, long abandoned. It was only natural that the buildings close by would fall away too.

But, quite frankly, Yassen didn't care about a dead street turn. He came here for information.

A stray dog across the street howled in agony as Yassen made his way down the dark, barley lit tunnel of the subway station. It wasn't completely pitch black. That was a good sign. The dimness proved that someone still went down here.

The path was a ghost town. Or perhaps he should call it a ghost tunnel. It still felt as if people were waiting for their train to pick them up. But the train would never come.

Yassen sighed. What was wrong with him? Years of discreet work had taken a toll, obviously.

_**Creak!**_

He spun! There was a figure right behind him, squinting and fumbling for something in his long trench-coat's pocket.

"P-_pluh_-please! Don't shoot!" The seemingly short man coughed out. His voice sounded old and cracked with the dryness that made him sound a hundred years old. At least.

Yassen had his gun out already. Work hadn't taken that much toll after all. He glared at the frail, frightened man.

"Something tells me that you aren't waiting for your train ticket. Now, answer me truthfully and I will not harm you."

The man attempted to chuckle but ended up choking and gagging instead. Yassen ignored him.

"Who are you?"  
"..Ba-_pluh_-Barney McHiggins, at your service my friend." He wheezed out.

"And why are you down here Barney?"

"It's my job. Supply..er..._new_ ID's and liscenses, give out need to know information, sell pictures of families you may need to blackma-erm...get in touch with..." Barney winked and then broke off into coughing again.

"Where is Tom Brady? The man that used to run this op?"

Barney broke off into a laughing fit mixed with coughs and groans. He clutched his hands to his stomach and came to with a disturbing twinkle in his eye.

"Tom ain't here right now. There was a tragic accident at his last vacation in the countryside. Apparently he was golfing with an explosive golf ball. Who woulda guessed it?" Barney smiled.

Yassen was not amused. He pocketed his gun in one swift motion and grabbed Barney by his collar, shoving his face into a nearby wall.

"Listen to me right now. You will not play games with me. Threaten. Exploit. Or tell anyone we had a conversation today. If I hear word of any of these things and connect them to you then you will find yourself waking up one day with a butcher's knife in your throat. Do you understand?"

Barney nearly whimpered, but slowly and painfully nodded his head in silence. Yassen released his grip.

"Good. I'm so glad we understand each other. Now, I would like some information on a few people. First of all, have you ever heard of SCORPIA?"

"Course'I have! It's my job. They were a rough bunch of mercenary terrorists you could say-"

"_Were?_"

"Yup, that's right. Last I heard one of their new recruits did em' in. Killed the leader called Rothman and half of the others. Then, only a little while later, he completely ruined them with the exposure and death of a double agent in Australia along with many other agents. If there are any left in SCORPIA, they won't be showing there faces to Secret Intelligence anytime soon..."

"Do you know this recruit's name?"

"Mmm...no, sorry. I think he was British. Least, that's what I heard. First ran in on SCORPIA in Malagosta. But don't worry, he'll be taken care of if that's what you're concerned about. No offense, but judging by the looks of you I'm sure that's what you would want, am I right?"

"What makes you think he'll be taken care of?" Yassen asked gazing at him, focused.

Barney had a smug, secretive look wiped all over his face.

"Ya won't tell who ya heard it from, will you?"

"Do I look like I'm a rat like you?" Yassen seethed.

"Fair enough..." Barney smiled and leaned closer to Yassen as if afraid someone would overhear them in the deserted station.

"A powerful woman came the other day, looking for a couple fake identities. One for her and one for a man. She also was looking for a remote location where the police wouldn't look. Said they needed it to be soundproof for-ah-_detaining_ situations. Bought a lotta drugs too, anesthesia and such that can knock someone out real good. But the doses were smaller than average. Meant for a young adult or teenager I reckon. And then I heard the man asking her if he-the man they were blackmailing I guess-would really wake up and want his son back. Then she went on blabbering about how her plans are fail proof and how she wanted revenge, oh, and then she mentioned the boy worked for MI6. Can you believe it? Some teenager or really young adult working for secret intelligence?"

"Shocking." Yassen sarcastically droned out.

"-So I put two and two together and assumed that the new recruit was probably the same kid who works for MI6. I mean, that would explain his betrayal for SCORPIA and everything, right?" Barney was beaming at his own clever idea.

"You're smarter than you look Barney." Yassen said.

"Why thank y-hey..."

"One more question. Do you know either one of their names? The two that came here for the drugs?"

Barney creased his eyebrows in thought. "uh...can't remember the gents name...but that woman, she was sure scary. Held a confident walk and such. And her name sounded like a flower almost...sarah...sira? Oh yeah! Sierra..."

"Sierra?"Yassen repeated. The name may have been fake, but it certainly had no meaning to Yassen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The white blanket of heavenly goodness had left his spirit. He honestly wanted to cry right now. Beg for Helen to come back. To feel her warmth and gentle caress again. That was what he wanted.

But no, instead all he received was a clearer vision field and a small white room. Four walls. Buzzing machines. Wires crawling up his arms.

Wait, _buzzing machines?_

He had no idea where he was or how he got here. Heck, he couldn't even remember the last thing that happened to him. All he remembered was-_Helen_.

_My angel..._

John's eyes watered and he almost began to cry but for the footsteps outside his door. James Hoskins had at last heard the whirring monitor that had clicked on to an annoying beep when John's heart rate went higher. Woke up was actually a better word for it...

John squinted. Who was the man in the white coat? Friend or enemy?

The man looked shocked, but then his gaze turned expectant. He didn't appear all that surprised.

"Can you hear me...John?"

Flexing a finger, just to make sure he was still in his own body, John replied, "Of course I can hear you. Who the are you?"

"My name is James Hoskins. I'm a doctor and here to help you."

"Do I look like I'm four years old, sir? Tell me why I am here and how I got here, RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"P-please! Don't overdue it! Your body will not respond perfectly right now, so you can't raise your heart rate too much!"

"Tell me how I got here."

"I honestly don't know Mr. Rider. I know barely anything about you. But a man, who works for MI6, a Mr. Crawford, he knows who you are. He told me that you were acquainted once before."

"John Crawford?"

"Yes..."

Crawford was a good agent, and if he was really involved in this, then at least he could trust someone. John breathed deeply. "How long have I been out?"

James flexed a hand and stepped closer to John. A single bead of sweat slithered down the side of his forehead. "Well, we're not absolutely sure, but best estimates are about fourteen years-"

John's eyes widened in disbelief. This man was not even trying to give him a believable story. "I'm not in the mood for games. Who the hell are you and why am I here?!"

"You were in a coma John. Crawford and I are doing are best to find out why and how, but when we found you, this is all we found. A white room, abandoned equipment, and you."

John appraised the nervous man in front of him. He had enough experience in the field of lying to know a liar when he spotted one. But this man was not lying. Scared maybe, but truthful.

"Well then Dr. Hoskins...I suppose you had better enlighten me on what I've missed."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen was making his way out of the tunnel when something suddenly occurred to him. Barney McHiggins hadn't asked for payment for the information. Surely a greedy little cretin like him would have asked for cash, unless-

_Bam!_

A bullet whizzed past his side, ripping his jacket arm. Blood began to flow freely. Faster than lightning, Yassen spun while pulling out his own firearm only to find that it wasn't there.

_He really was a dirty little weasel..._

"Don't move a muscle." A man called out in front of him. He was well built, medium height, with dark blonde hair. Grim expression. Fiery eyes. No more than thirty years old at best guess. The eyes looked surprised at first, and then they slowly accepted what they saw. Accepted and hated.

"Yassen Gregorovich," He spat out.

"Do I know you?"

"You do now. My name is David Javenson. Someone told me that you are responsible for my brother's death."

"And how did you come across that?" Yassen was icy cold. Frozen and calmed to his spot, unphased by the gun pointed straight at him.

"As it turns out, my brother was supposedly healing after his miraculous survival from the attack. But when I rushed to the hospital, he wasn't there. And then a photo popped up from airport security cameras from flights to London. A nurse identified you as her patient. But I knew you weren't my brother, even if you do look a bit like him... The government told me to take you alive, but they'll never know what happened out here. I can tell them it was self defense-"

"-Be careful what you are thinking. If you walk away right now, I will not harm you." Yassen stated emotionlessly.

"Shut up! You're going to pay for what you did to my brother, do you hear me?! You won't walk away from a crime scene ever again!" David loosely pulled the trigger with a crazed gleam in his eye.

Yassen decided that now was the right time to make his move and he spun his foot and knocked the gun out of David's shaking hand. David reacted and launched his body on Yassen, knocking them both to the ground. He wrapped his hands around Yassen's neck and squeezed, in full mind to cut off his windpipes when he felt something heavy hit his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crawford was at loss without any leads. Unfortunately, he did know where too get leads. It was shady and dangerously close to criminal, but he was willing to do it if he could find Alex.

He had gotten word of a ex-mob boss who would feed information to criminals willing to pay. He made it his business to know everything about everyone and thrived on the commerce of it.

Crawford was heading down beside the abandoned metro system when he saw two men wrestling each other on the ground. Then one of them began choking in intent to kill. Crawford snuck up and gabbed his balled up fist on a pressure point of the man. He fell limp right before Crawford.

Slowly, he checked the man's pulse. It was regular. Then he glanced back toward the other figure.

But the other man was gone.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Wait...son?"

"Yes, Crawford said you have a son."

John searched his memory for anything before the crash. There were flashes.

_Helen handing over a little baby to the nanny, teared up and homesick already. Her name was Ceila. The nanny who held his...child...his son Alex..._

"_Helen, we can't miss our flight." He explained with an understanding smile. She nodded and moved toward the taxi. But he went up to Ceila and kissed the little baby on the forehead._

"_I love you."_

_And then he was gone._

John shut his eyelids. The smiling baby was too much. James Hoskins seemed to understand his painfully slow attempt at memory searching and left him alone in the room.

Something felt dry on his tongue. Like a part of the flash was a lie. Something was either missing or wrong.

But what could have been wrong with that innocent scene?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex was still tied to a chair when he heard voices outside. The soldier man wasn't in here with him. It was a small surprise considering that he had insisted upon watching Alex's every move. Just waiting for Alex to do something crazy no doubt...

But he was hearing the man's voice. Two people were arguing outside his prison.

"...that is a bad idea...can't tell him things like..."

"...that is _my_ decision...don't you dare..." A woman's voice sounded through very clearly. "Are you _jealous_? Hmm? Is that it?"

"I just don't think..." He started to go off again but the woman cut him off. Angry footsteps thudded closer to the door and undid the locks hurriedly.

The woman stepped through the narrow doorway and her gaze fell directly on Alex. Her hair was pitch black with a sleek shine to it and she was slender, but walked with firm steps. A person who knew they were in control. All in all, she looked around in her forties, but not old in any way. No, this woman looked more spirited than women half as old as herself.

"Alex..." She began. Hazel eyes that danced with-what was that...joy?-gazed at him. The woman walked closer until she was right up next to Alex. Carefully, she laid one of her cold hands on his cheek. Alex cringed away at the icy feeling and looked her straight in the eye.

"Who are you?"

Surprise flickered across her hazel brown eyes and then came...anger...at the very least. Then a calm aura filled the woman again and she spoke, " I had guessed that no one would have told you about me Alex. I saw you when you were such a small, fragile baby you know. Your father-"

"You knew my father?"

She laughed. "Yes. Rather well in fact. But he was not the man I thought I knew. He betrayed me and destroyed all the work I had built in my life. In fact, he would have killed me if I hadn't given him such a scare one day."

"What did you do?"

She laughed again. A long and deep laugh that chilled Alex's very bones. This woman-whoever she was-was dangerous. He could tell that much.

"Oh Alex. It wasn't what _I_ did. It's what _he_ did."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Helen smiled at the little baby in her arms and then back at John. Alex crawled toward his father and John laughed as he lifted him up and sat the baby down on his knee. Happily John looked at the joyful face of Alex and looked into the child's eyes. Then he glanced back at Helen, still smiling. Helen, with her beautiful amber eyes, radiated her bliss-_

John woke from his dream.

He suddenly realized what felt out of place.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N- Send me your thoughts. Think you know where it's going? Not liking it? More action? Less confusion? Let me know!

:) Reviews help me update faster!(And Yassen doesn't like lurkers, so keep that in mind when you skip reviewing vv)


	8. Life And Love And Why

_The room was shady with it's deep russet paneled walls and maroon curtains. He had never liked the texture or style of their apartment, but then, all that mattered to him was what she wanted. Now, it didn't surprise John about why she had always liked darker colors than light, airy, joyful shades. Why she had insisted upon taking late night trips out just to buy groceries. Why she had preferred war films to romance. Why no one in her family had shown up at her own wedding. Why she had always avoided the subject when he mentioned his work._

_There was always that moment where he had wondered why she acted so very different than other women. She never had friends or coworkers over , but was never home. Even he took some time to talk to Ash or Crawford about something other than his job. And her secretary job at the local bank was rarely in a conversation. It wasn't that he had cared about that about it as much as the reason as he wondered...why? _

_So here he was, sitting at the kitchen table, stressing over the woman in his life like any other man would. But he wasn't any other man. And, despite the reassuring smiles she threw at him early all the time, John knew something was strange. They felt fake. She was smiling to calm him down, not because she was joyful._

_He stood up. She had told him to meet her here an hour ago. But she was late. As usual. He noted another odd quirk of hers and walked into their bedroom, gently tossing his casual black coat on the bed. Then he looked toward the dresser in curiosity. He had never had use for the drawers because he was usually on a mission or staying miles away on a military base, but it was now that he wondered if his wife could possibly be hiding something. _

_John opened the tope drawer. It was full of socks. Very well organized and color coded, which surprised him because Ari had never seemed to have time for anything, much less folding socks._

_The other drawers were also clothing items, shampoo, classic books by Charles Dickens. Picking a book up, he opened the front and shrugged. It had never been opened before. The ink smelt fresh and the pages cracked from separation._

_John scolded himself for being so impersonal about someone he cared so much about. It was childish really. And he had probably mixed up the time when she was supposed to meet him-_

"_John? Are you in here?"_

_He quickly fumbled with the drawer and hurried to the doorway. There she was, wearing beige pants and a simple white shirt, carrying a plain brown bag. Not a fashionable purse, just a bag. He ignored it._

"_You called me three hours ago. Did something happen?"_

"_Our meeting was longer than I expected and my appointment ran late." She held her hands to her side, as if daring him to guess a riddle._

_The sentence didn't fully register._

"_...are you okay?"_

"_I'm fine, John. I just wanted to see you." _

"_About what?"_

_She frowned in annoyance. "What do you mean? Is something wrong with wanting to talk to you?"_

"_-You could have talked to me on the phone. I left my duty because I thought this was important."_

_He tried to read her smooth features and powerfully intense eyes. They were glaring back at him, also penetrating and debating...something. It was only at this moment that John truly noticed how alert she really acted._

"_Is that all you care about? Your job? Why can't you just quit it altogether?"_

"_Is that what you want me to do, Ari?"_

"_Don't call me that! And yes, I do want you to quit. I want you to do something else for a living, and stay here."_

_John sighed. "You could have told me about how you felt before I was assigned a new location."_

"_I didn't know that you were going to Malagosto!"_

_His head shot up in disclosure. "Who said anything about Malagosto? You never asked where I went, even though I have tried to tell you many times."_

_She stuttered on her feet and lost composure. John stepped forward in alarm. "What's wrong?" He tried to reach out and grasp her hand in comfort, but she only slapped it away. A cold gaze now occupied her face. _

"_You don't understand, John", She said. her gaze was far from him though. She was staring straight ahead, distantly in her own thoughts._

"_I really am trying to." He pleaded with her and tried to come closer. Ari glanced back at him once again, and an unrecognizable look that John had never seen upon her face was suddenly there._

"_I have to go out ."_

_And she was gone._

He woke up with a jolt. It was impossible to tell the time because there wasn't a single window occupying the depressing room. This had been the third time he had dreamt this particular scene, and it hadn't progressed thus far. John rubbed his grainy eyes and looked shifted his gaze to shudder at the small, compact mirror lying by his bed. He still did not believe that he had been in a 'coma' for fourteen years. And he hadn't aged a bit. It was the worst lie he had ever been subjected to, and he had heard some pretty stupid coverups at that.

If it was a lie(which there was a ninety nine point nine percent chance of in his personal view), then he was in enemy territory. That meant only one thing-he had to _get out _of enemy territory. Sitting up (rather awkwardly)was the easy part, he found the hardest part to be standing up. Taking just one baby 

step felt alien to his body. It was as if he had to relearn to walk. Maybe he had been out longer than first thought, but either way, he needed to regain some strength before he made his move.

Taking a deep breath and sitting upright again; he took time to attempt to remember the last thing that happened to him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crawford had momentarily forgotten about why he had journeyed through this part of town in the first place. He had commenced to studying the unconscious man in front of him instead. He was wearing a sturdy jacket-probably bulletproof-the kind issued to soldiers, important people in a government, _or can be easily bought on illegal grounds_, mused Crawford.

His mobile phone rang then, but he ignored it and grunted in impatience. He had meant to turn it off before he came out here.

Proficiently, he searched the man for identification of any sort. He ended up with a lightweight professional gun and a sharp, glinting dagger that he mistook for an average pocketknife at first. The situation was not looking bright at the moment. But were his assumptions justified? After all, the other man was nowhere to be found. If you had been attacked, most people wouldn't have run off at the sight of help.

He glanced back toward the man who appeared slightly younger than middle aged. Maybe late twenties or so. He was well toned, and he was-_awake._

Crawford braced himself for any sudden attacks. Even though he didn't like to admit it, it had been a while since he had been engaged in open combat. He prayed that the man wouldn't try anything, for his sake.

The body quaked a little before the eyes shot open. They settled on Crawford and the man frowned as the eyes searched for someone else that wasn't present. He tried to pull himself up but Crawford decided that now was the right time to strike and he pushed the man back down, while adding pressure from his hand on the man's throat. He received a startled choke as reply.

"What is your name?"

No answer. He tightened his push on the neck. Another strangled choke came out. The man was getting blue in the face.

_Maybe I'm not as out of touch as I thought..._

"Answer me!"

"...David." Crawford recognized an American accent. Of course, he was a little rusty and could have mistaken it for southern Canadian. And anyone can learn to fake an accent to conceal their identity.

"Last name?"

"I'm not telling you."

This time all it took was a warning glare. If Crawford wasn't interrogating a potential enemy at the moment he would have been as giddy as a schoolchild with excitement for his revived control.

"Javenson."

"And why were you attacking that man, Mr. Javenson?"

The dark eyes darkened even more. David tensed the lines on his face in anger. "He killed my brother less than a year ago."

Crawford felt a slight pang of understanding as he remembered his own past, but then he quickly let it go and reminded himself that attempted murder could not be justified.

"How did you find out who murdered him? Did you know him before he killed your brother?"

"No! I'm just good at tracking people. It's what I was trained for when I worked for the government."

He became a little hopeful. If this was a government job, then perhaps this man was just doing his job like Crawford would have done. And he could have information.

"Which government?"

The man shrugged. "The American one."

"So, you work for the American government?"

"Not anymore."

Crawford released that small shot of hope and abruptly realized that it wasn't safe out in the open with a potentially dangerous man who obviously knew obviously knew at least one way to kill someone.

"Stand up slowly", he told David while shifting one hand to pull a pair of handcuffs out of his coat pocket. He ignored the younger man's scowl as he snapped a cuff on his own wrist and the other on David's.

"Walk forward", he muttered to the man in front who was still very put-off about the handcuffs.

"Are you with the police?" He asked.

"No. Not really." Crawford chuckled and then frowned in realization that he could lose his job at MI6 if he didn't turn this man over. But he probably knew where to get information if he had successfully discovered the identity of his target.

"So Mr. Javenson, how did your brother die?" He asked. The question seemed to do the trick because the expression on David's face clouded with sadness and all anger washed away as if it had never been there. It almost made Crawford feel guilty enough to let him go. Almost.

"He was a guard for Air Force One. There was a hijacking attempt a few months ago and he was killed in the open fire of it."

Crawford resisted the urge to point out that it hadn't been an _attempt, _but a nearly successful start to another war, but he then realized that it was doubtful David knew that to begin with. His tongue tasted sour. Alex had stopped that flight. He had only now remembered the reason for coming out here. How funny that everything was connected somehow. Trying to clear his head, he paused.

"You knew that the man would be coming here." Crawford said to himself. David took it as a comment directed toward him and replied.

"I was given information."

"Were you given his name?"

"Yassen Gregorovich."

Crawford wanted to faint right there.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I tried to call Crawford, but he didn't answer his phone."

_Do I look that stupid?_

John shrugged and decided to humor this idiot. "Well I'm sure he'll come back." He reassured Dr. Hoskins. James didn't look quite settle at this very second. He stood, staring at John in contemplation, like there was a million pieced puzzle right in front of him that was missing three sections to the picture.

"Do you remember much?" He asked, almost timidly.

_So it's information they want..._

"No. Nothing", John lied.

James nodded, as if his fears were short-circuited. He glanced toward the door and twitched a foot, trying to decide whether to say something. In the end, he gave in and spoke. "Someone abducted your son a couple days ago."

The partially recovered man narrowed his eyes at the casual tone but listened. He didn't think this man was lying. Or at least he didn't _think _he was lying. Someone else could be lying to Hoskins in order to lie to him.

John sighed in weary perplexity. _This all so bizarre..._

He hadn't noticed that Dr. Hoskins was still talking, "...idea who did it. Crawford said he was going to look around though. And I don't know much about you people, but for the short time I've known him, I'd say that John Crawford knows what he's doing. And he cares about your son too. He looked like he was at death's door when I gave him the envelope-"

"What envelope?" John cut him off and James felt his face grow hot.

"They sent letters warning, well _you_ that they had Alex. They sent hair...and blood...I don't think they realized it would take you a while to wake up and recuperate..."

"Did you say blood?"

The calm look on Dr. Hoskins face flickered slowly. "Yes."

He frowned in disgust and stood up. He was feeling much better and the man blocking the doorway definitely wasn't Hulk Hogan. So he walked forward casually and nodded expectantly toward James.

"Well then I'd better see to them, shouldn't I?"

James Hoskins had, unfortunately for him, just discovered how fragile and puny he was standing next to John and hesitated.

"We don't know if your body can operate properly after all that time in-"

"If you don't mind, I'd prefer it if you could at least make up a believable story. But don't worry, you'll have plenty of time for that _after _I leave."

"Wait!"

Yeah, right. He was really going to _wait. _Even if this man was right about Alex, then he wasn't going to sit around and let sadistic criminals torture a baby. He had risked everything for Alex before and-

Wait.

_John was stricken with grief. "Ash, you have got to help me. I want him back. There's no telling what she'll do. She tried to kill Yassen, and now it's Alex she's got."_

He remembered the controlled anger on Ash's face when he mentioned Yassen's name. He hadn't paid much attention to Ash that day, but now looking back...

"_Don't worry John. You know I'd go with you anywhere. We can figure this out."_

"_I can't believe I trusted her. You don't know what it feels like to have one of the few people you care about betray you..."_

"_Does it hurt, John?"_

"_Yes. More than anything I have ever felt before." _

_Ash's eyes flickered with unknown emotion. John didn't notice. _

He felt so cold outside. But it was not wintertime. Perhaps...summer? fall? He didn't know or even care. John trudged on. His memories were flooding back with overwhelming speed. It felt like a hurricane crashing against his, now small and weak self. And he did feel very small right now. The restaurants and 

shops were both new and old, fancy and average, busy and desolate. They had bright, colorful signs with dainty letters spelling out the names and people smiling through windows.

But he didn't recognize any of them.

He saw the hospital in the distance. He had been to it many times. But where did all of this come from?

"_You've been in a coma for __**years**__ John..."_ Hoskin's voice boomed through his head.

He stopped on back street and sat down against a brick wall.

_She laughed with an inhuman tone he had never heard before. It didn't sound right coming from her beautiful face. A face that once held warmth to him._

"_This can't be true! Please explain it to me Ari. I __**need**__ to know."_

"_Poor John. So experienced, and yet, so naive. In fact, I think that I don't understand you as much as you don't understand me, John. MI6 doesn't even understand you! Do you remember how you came home in an angry fit because Blunt questioned why you didn't let Yassen die? Why, you were upset for days...about your __**enemy**_. _You could have had one less danger in the future-even you see how dangerous he is getting-but __**no**__, you didn't only let him live, you __**saved his life!**__"_

"_You said I did the right thing..."_

"_-Because that was just one thing. I figured you had some reason for it, that you would explain later, but you never did. You just saved him because you became to attached to your "new" identity, didn't you?"_

"_That's not why I saved him."_

_Her eyes narrowed. "He is going to grow up and kill people. That is what you are teaching him. He never had a real parents, so stop hoping that one day you can tell him the truth. If he's forced to decide between you and SCORPIA, the answer is obvious. Besides, you don't need __**him**__..." She smiled a wickedly secretive smile. _

_John's head had been hanging down, staring at the ground for most of the time, but now, it was looking at her. Looking at her in a mixture of rage and sadness._

"_Well then, I guess I don't need you either."_

"_That is not what I meant."_

"_All I know is that you have lied to me about everything I've ever known about you. I know what you really do while I'm gone. Where you go and who you talk to. And none of it looks very innocent to me."_

_She stepped closer to him. Only a ghostly reminder of the woman she once was. The woman he thought she was._

"_And you are innocent John? You kill people all the time. I know this because I've seen you more at work more times than you think. I've seen shoot and stab and murder. And you know what? I-don't-care. I married you because of that very reason. You weren't afraid to do what was necessary for your country, just like I can and will do what is required for my...organization."_

"_There is a difference. I hunt the guilty. You hurt the innocent." His tone was firm and jaw clenched. Slowly, he reached for his gun, concealed behind his back at the moment. Some things were meant to be stopped._

_She scowled and pulled back, twirling a lock of black, silky hair in one pedicured hand. "You __**are **__changing John. Or maybe I have just failed to notice you all along. Either way, I hate the idea of raising my baby alone."_

_He nearly dropped the gun. "What?"_

"_Oh yes. That day when I called you? Well, believe it or not my __**appointment **__was at the hospital. I was going to tell you the good news. But instead you wanted to whine about your duty and Yassen, the former little street brat."_

_Faster than lightning, John whipped the gun out. She didn't even flinch. Another smile._

"_If you kill me, you kill your child."_

_A lone trickle of sweat rolled down his forehead. His face felt damp and hot with tension. He wanted nothing more than to pull the life out of this evil person that had done so much. The thirst for blood was overwhelming. He wondered if this was how his enemies felt all the time. Just the thought of it was horrifying._

"_Go ahead, John." She winked her pearly teeth at him. Taunting like the face of the devil._

_He dropped the gun to the ground and watched as she lifted up the grenade she had been holding. Her hand curved and index finger settled on the release ring._

"_Just think of what a great story this will be for my child when he grows up."_

_She backed up a distance and pulled the pin off the grenade. It flew toward him without a thought of mercy. Death was at it's edge. _

"_Get out of the way!" Something hard hit him squarely in the chest and he flew several feet to the right before landing with a loud 'thud'. A heavy body was on top of him. He looked up and saw the baffled expression of Crawford, who quickly got off John and let out a long stream of apologies. Several feet behind him stood Ash, who looked astonished at the sight of John. When he noticed John was looking at him, his mouth awkwardly formed a smile._

"_That was a close one, mate", He said slowly._

_John could have sworn he saw his eye twitch._

Out in the alleyway, a single tear ran down John's cheek. Though he didn't know quite why it came.

"Helen, I'm so sorry...", He sobbed to himself and closed his eyes, seeking any form of comfort.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He caught the man unawares and slammed him into the stone wall of the subway station. Barney's face read, first: shock, second: horror. Yassen smugly noted the second one and decided to use it to it's fullest.

"Well, something tells me that you weren't _completely_ honest with me last time Barney. Oh, and I was sure to greet your friend waiting outside. He was such a good host."

Barney's eyes were round and watery. He knew he had been caught like a fish in the net. And he was about to have a few scales scraped off if he didn't think fast.

"_Was?" _He squeaked out.

Yassen narrowed his eyes. "Don't you worry about him now. Why don't you just tell the person still standing here the truth?"

He hoped the small man wouldn't faint. That would be a bothersome inconvenience for him.

"He got here first! He said he was looking for the people responsible for the...er...Air Force One incident. You were the only name I knew to mention Mr. Gregorovich!"

His eyes were now blades of ice. "So you know who I am now? Interesting. How much did he pay you?"

"Alot more than you would have," He muttered and very quickly regretted it when Yassen slammed his head against the stone hard surface.

"Wait! WAIT! I'll tell you everything. I swear it!" He screamed out. Yassen loosened his grip a little bit and nodded in acknowledgment.

"Talk fast."

Barney stuttered, but spoke," The boy's name is Alex Rider. The woman really did give her name as Sierra. That's what she always goes by."

"She comes here often?"

"Yeah...sometimes..."

"Why did she take Alex?"

Barney tried to lift his shoulders and shrug, but Yassen was still in an attack position. "I dunno. I think it has something to do with the boy's father. Maybe she wanted to hold him ransom or something...?"

Yassen threw the man to the ground and cracked a knuckle. "That's impossible. His father is dead."

"Look, I'm just tellin' ya what I heard! Maybe she doesn't know he's dead, but I don't know anything about it!"

"Oh really?" Yassen questioned in expectance. "You mean, you don't know where they might have gone?"

The fear in Barney's eyes was unimaginable. "She'll kill me."

"And you think I won't?" Yassen spat out.

Barney shivered. "...I might..."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He flinched away from her closeness and was taken aback to see a hurt look on her face. The soldier man was watching from the doorway and shooting Alex a look with-pity?-in his eyes.

"What do you mean?! What did my father do?"

The soldier man shifted his gaze from the door and turned to stand straight ahead. The woman just gave him a satisfied look as if she had been waiting for him to ask.

"Alex-,The woman smiled patiently, with a manner similar to when one talks to a small child,-I'm your mother."

He heard it, but it took a few seconds to register. Then the world began to take too much energy to make sense of and Alex fainted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N-Sorry I didn't put much Alex into it(specially' since it's called The ALEX Rider series. winkwink). He'll play a bigger role after this chapter ;D

Pictures for this story are on my profile page. I highly suggest you go check them out. I haven't found one for Crawford yet, but I'll keep checking. And Yassen gets three because he has a gun and I value my life to a dangerously high extent.

What's that, Yassen? Oh, and to the person who mailed Yassen the gag peanuts: Very funny but he knows where you live.

Why did AH decide to make Yassen book number nine? WHY?! Book eight had BETTER be good then! Ooh! Let's all blackmail Anthony Horowitz! Who's with me? ...put your hand down Sabina.

I will give longer chapters and shorter time between updates if you review! tell me what you want to see and what you don't(I for one never want to see Sabina Pleasure...anywhere...ever...unless of course she's being killed off...hey, it's a jealousy complex –winks-)


	9. On The Way Down

"_What's wrong?" She questioned, with a voice sharper than broken glass._

_John gazed upon the face that had only held friendship for him on so many occasions. Comparing Ari to the woman in front of him had seemed unspeakable before. He truly had loved Ari. But now..._

"_It was her, Helen. She was-is-the head of it all. All these months we were tracking SCORPIA's rival organization, the producer of all those bombs, even the local neighborhood killer, and the answer was kissing me goodnight."_

_She back stepped. "You don't mean Arreis , do you?"_

"_Yes."_

_Guilt plagued the misty eyes as they shaded over. Helen suddenly looked weary and older than her years. John thought back to the feral nature that Ari had acquired on their last visit and shivered. He didn't want to see a mask of cruelty cover another innocent face in his life._

"_...John...I am so sorry. I didn't know. I-I trusted her like a sister, I swear!"_

"_I know that you have nothing to do with this, Helen. But I do need your help. Do you still work at the hospital?"  
_

"_Absolutely, in fact I'm almost done with my medical license to become a doctor."_

"_Helen, I'm going to ask you to do something that isn't part of my government job, or even legal. But I believe it is the right thing to do and I will understand if you say, 'no'."_

"_I said I'll do anything for you John. After I sent a murderer to you-this...is only fair..."_

"_I need you to pretend like we never had this conversation. Then, look for her in a hospital."_

_Helen shrugged. "Is she sick?"_

_This was the hardest part. "Not exactly...I think she's pregnant, Helen."_

_She dropped the ink pen she had been holding and widened her small pupils. "Oh my God..."_

"_Yeah, that's what I'm still thinking..."_

"_You...want me to kidnap the baby, don't you?"_

_She wasn't taking it as well as he had expected. "I'm the father and better of the two parental options. It doesn't count as kidnapping."_

"_Then why aren't you telling MI6?"_

_His face flushed bright red. "Oh? Tell them that I became friendly and married a cold-blooded murderer and then had a baby with her?! They will never trust me again. The baby's life will be butchered by the media. And, what if she covered up her tracks, Helen? She might frame someone else-or me for her crimes and then take our baby and my life away forever. Do you get the picture now?"_

"_I'm sorry John... I didn't mean to treat you like a criminal. I'm just...nervous..."_

"_I'll protect you, I swear it. She'll never find out that I ever made contact with you. But she just tried to kill Yassen because I showed the faintest trace of care for him. There's no telling what she'll do with an infant."_

_Helen smiled then wrinkled her nose in perplexity. "Who is Yassen?"_

His hands were clammy, but it wasn't cold. As he slowly debated on whether this was truly reality or not, another road passed him by. John trudged on down the strange city that he once knew.

_XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX_

Yassen Gregorovich could honestly say that he was tired. The dwarf-like man in front of him had not been an easy egg to crack. But a little evasive persuasion had always worked out for him, and after a couple bloody noses and broken wrists, Barney had beenhappy to talk.

He tapped a foot on the cement ground and debated on whether to let the man go or not, as he was still holding him in a vice-grip.

After looking at the battered face of Barney, he released his hands and waited. Barney stood slowly, as if hardly daring to move. Yassen could see that the man's coat had flapped open. Barney still had his hand to his chest and blood was seeping through his fingers, staining the whole of the front of his shirt.

Quite frankly, Yassen didn't care or feel the least bit of remorse at display of violence. It had been provoked and he knew that no mercy would have been received from the dirty little sewer rat in front of him.

"If this information is also a lie, I will be back. If you try to leave; I will hunt you down. And don't underestimate my resources. Finding and killing you would be child's play."

The man was struggling to speak,"...I didn't lie...I told you everything I know..."

"Lucky for you," Yassen spat out and then leered at the small man one final time, simply to leave a forbidding memory.

Outside, it was warm, but not sunny. Cloudy, but no sign of rain. And Yassen seemed to have realize that there was something terribly wrong. He paid no heed to a distinct man leaning up against a weather ridden wall, between two buildings. He made a point to mind his own business. Literally.

It was the deep, stricken voice that caught him off guard.

"I murdered her..."

The sentence made Yassen turn impulsively to the source and he would have dropped his gun had he been holding it. Yassen never put any thought to whether God existed, but at this moment, he unquestionably believed in the devil. For only a demon of absolute venom could have retained the cruelty to display such an image. There in the clearest of forms...

Thinking of the scar on his neck, he suddenly felt a lurch and the slightest, but still visible, tinge of emotion ran through him. Sadness.

A concept he had forgotten long ago.

_The snow was painted red with blood. A young boy stood, looking out at the toxic rubble left after the explosion. He closed his eyes and opened them, hoping it would go away. It didn't. His father was really dead. And with the poison now flowing through her veins, he was forced to watch his mother die a slow and agonizing death._

_The solemn boy didn't shed a tear. Instead a glazed look came over him and in complete revulsion, he opened his mouth,_

"_Never again."_

Yassen stood frozen for several minutes. He knew why the memory came up, but it still managed to surprise him. Then he abruptly realized that the fair haired man was staring back with...curiosity?

Yassen gradually felt very foolish at his own shock. The man was younger than him by a few years at least. It couldn't possibly have been the person he thought at first. His mind was creating obstacles and he accepted them without doubt. That would have to stop.

Nodding to the younger man and flashing an apologetic look, he turned away and went on, becoming more irritated at his resurfaced mind than before he was shot.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

All he could think of was Helen's perfect angel smile and the fact that he would never see it again.

"I murdered her..." He said more to himself than anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone stop in their tracks and a head shot right in his direction, pinpointing John's position. He saw a red haired man with serious features and chiseled lips. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans and black coat. Though, with the warm weather, John couldn't imagine why.

The other man had halted with near inhuman impulse and stood frozen to the ground. John glanced at him and shot a questioning look. Suddenly, the older man came to and straightened himself up in minor embarrassment. He carefully upturned his head in John's direction, in an act of contrition. Then the man walked away.

From a distance, John saw the man shiver and touch his neck. The tip of a long gash was visible.

John inwardly swore and rubbed his temple in wrath. Of all the people in the entire bloody world; this was happening to him. His mind in the middle of a split decision, he kicked a nearby pebble and it landed on the far side of the other street.

The world may have seemed void a few minutes ago, but at the moment he felt his former instinct take hold.

John Rider did not believe in coincidences.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His eyes stung and everything was dark. Alex realized that someone's hand was on his forehead. He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was sharp, manicured nails. He jerked his head away. The woman was still there, looking at him with concern. Alex hated it.

"What...what did you say?"

She smiled patiently as if the question was expected. "I said I was your mother Alex."

_Yeah, that's what I thought._

"My mother was Helen Rider."

He caught a spark of hate and envy coming from the woman now. Her eyes narrowed and she stood up abruptly.

"Oh? Is _that _what people have been telling you? Helen _Rider_?!-"Much to Alex's surprise and displeasure she started laughing," That little prick was never married to John and I can assure you that she is _not _your mother."

"Prove it," He spat out.

Her eyes were slits. "I could give you some medical records, but then, she probably stole those too. Of course, there's always DNA tests, Alex. But is that really what you want? I don't think it is. If I were you, I'd be wanting the truth."

Alex remained silent.

"Ah, so I'm correct. Well I suppose I should inform you that _Helen _and I used to be best friends. In fact it was she that introduced me to John. And, at first I liked him. John worked for important people and was far more..._dangerous_ than other men. I never asked him about his work because I usually knew more about what he did that John realized. It didn't bother me that we worked for complete opposite motives. He didn't know, and of course, ignorance is bliss. But then he started to change. One day he would come home complaining about Alan Blunt and what he was forced to do, whom he had to get rid of to save his cover. I tried to lie to myself, but it came out just the same: John was growing tired of MI6 and starting to hate his job. It kept getting worse too. He ended up saving a student of his at SCORPIA and came to me, giving a heartfelt conversation on how he felt _guilty _teaching murder to someone-"

"Was it Yassen?"

She stared at Alex calculatingly and then nodded. "Yes. How do you know about Yassen?"

Alex debated on lying about it, but then he realized that at this point it didn't matter. "I encountered him several times."

She paused, as if in her own distant thoughts. "I tried to kill him once, you know. I began to suspect your father's change to have started from the guilt of deceiving Yassen. So I set up a bomb on a taxi at just the right time. Somehow it failed, whether by a leak in my command or not, I'll never know. But John couldn't find me that day and...he only then began to wonder who I really was. It makes no difference now. I have the means to kill Yassen now."

Alex seethed. "You're too late! I watched him die."

"Did you Alex?" She asked playfully and flashed him her pearly teeth. "I don't suppose he told you anything before he died..."

"He told me about my father and...SCORPIA..."

"And that was how you came to kill Rothman?"

Alex cringed. "I didn't kill her! It was an accident!"

"You have a lot of accidents, dear Alex, and a lot of people are left dead not far from where you are, I've noticed. But don't worry, I made have made a pact with SCORPIA in the past, but after I tried to destroy one of their best trainees, we turned separate ways. You did me a favor."

"How did you know that?"

She smiled, "I know a lot of things Alex. For one, I know that Yassen Gregorovich is alive. Two, he is inquiring about your disappearance, and three, oh, well I shouldn't spoil all the fun, should I?"

Alex felt his face heat up. "Liar!" He screamed.

"You can believe me or not Alex. But you will eventually have to accept me." Her gaze hardened and she spun around to leave. Halfway up the door, she paused, her heels ceasing to click against the cemented flooring.

"Maybe you should look closer next time you watch someone _die_, son. I made that mistake once and it now comes back to haunt me." Then she left, and the soldier man didn't bother to so much as glance at Alex as he closed the door and resumed his bored guarding position.

It took Alex exactly three minutes to understand what she meant.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crawford unlocked the door in impatience. Why hadn't James answered his knocking?

He walked in to see James Hoskins fumbling with several thick books and a laptop. His typing was quick and hurried. Finally noticing the entrants, he turned around.

"You won't belie-...who's that?" He asked gesturing toward David, whom was still handcuffed and swaying uncomfortably to one side. He glared at James, but said nothing.

"Long story. How is John doing?" Crawford asked.

James shifted in his seat and stood up. "He woke up-"

Crawford's widened in disbelief.

"-and left."

"...what?"

"I tried to stop him, but you weren't here, and he didn't believe anything I told him! I called you, but you didn't pick up."

Crawford nearly slammed David into a wall. "Damn. Do you know where he went?"

"I don't know. He seemed disoriented."

"I need to take care of this before someone sees him or questions why I was running around near the abandoned metro. Help me tie him up." He thrust David forward and James offered his chair. Crawford unlocked the handcuffs and reattached them so that they fit around the chair's spine.

"Did you see where Yassen Gregorovich went?" Crawford drilled him.

David shrugged."No."

"Did he mention why he was there?"

"No. Why would he?"

"Whom else did you meet down there?"

"You and him. That was it. I don't know what you people are talking about, let me go."

"So you can go kill someone on the street?"

The bronze haired man seethed at Crawford. "Gregorovich has killed more in one lifetime than I could have with a hundred. You want him alive?"

"...I...think he might have some answers I'm looking for. You only want revenge. I need to speak with Yassen alive."

"And what makes you think he would tell you anything?!" David asked, dripping with venom.

"Calm down", Crawford replied. "I'm willing to take a chance because some things are more important to me than the revenge of others."

James was nearly hugging a wall on the far side, listening. "Did you tell MI6 about him?"

"Do you really want them to start asking questions?"

"Isn't it illegal to keep him here withou-"

"To hell with MI6, James! They don't care about John or Alex. They only want to be in control. Well now I'm taking control of things, _without_ them."

James flinched at the outburst, but didn't bother to object. What did he know about the affairs of a secret agent?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The building was scarred and torn, he observed when approaching the abandoned soap factory. It seemed a little too obvious in Yassen's opinion, but he wasn't here to judge. He lifted a hand to the rusted doorknob and pulled. It shuttered then gave away. Yassen frowned. Too easy.

He fingered the side of his belt to reassure himself that his gun was still at present, then he observed the condemned building. Just as he suspected, it was about ready to fall apart. No human would have stayed safely under it's roof.

He had been cheated twice.

Yassen motioned to leave, but heard a voice.

"Hello Mr. Gregorovich."

He blinked twice and then realized that a gray clothed figure was quietly sitting on an old furnace in the corner. The man was hard to make out in terms of age, but he had dark hair and relaxed posture.

"I've been waiting for you."

Naturally, Yassen adjusted himself in attack position, ready to pull out his gun at any possible second. "Is that so?"

"Are you looking for Alex?"

Not wanting to put himself in an emotionally awkward position, Yassen ignored the question. "Who are you?" He asked.

"Oh, I am so sorry. My name is Turner. My friends call me..." He shrugged. "Actually, they call me Turner too. Though I don't seem to have very many friends these days..."

"They didn't all die mysterious deaths, did they?" Yassen questioned, in an unnaturally light tone.

The other man glanced up at the ceiling and back, at ease. "Yes actually. A fair few of them anyway. But I guess you understand that, Mr. Gregorovich."

"Where is Alex?" Yassen asked, deadly in tone.

The man didn't bother tallying. "Probably somewhere near the foothills of the mountains to the north. Even I don't know the exact location. I just follow the orders given."

"And Alex is definitely there?"

"He was taken there. He nearly escaped, which amused the guard who told me. He has not been taken away and I have asked where he is being held-it is a small facility. That is the only reason you are here, is it not?"

"My reasons are none of your concern. Did you lead me here?"

Turner half smiled. "Yeah, sorry about that. She figured you'd be onto us after you found out about Alex. I paid McHiggins to help me out. But he went off plan when the American came to see him," Noting the furious expression on Yassen, he continued, "Don't bother with going back to kill him. We've already taken care of it."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Someone wants to talk to you."

Yassen stepped dangerously close to the man and spoke, "Not unless I get something out of it."

Turner nodded his head understanding, "She won't let Alex go, if that's what you want."

"I want to talk to him."

"...Fine." Turner held out his hand and they shook on it, but Yassen didn't have any intention of fulfilling his bargain if the need arose, and it was doubtful that the other man did either.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sorry it took me so long to update :O I was busy rereading Brisingr a hundred times and crying over the fact that it'll be another two year wait for the next installment. But you guys understand that, right?

Wow, over a hundred reviews :) Thank you! I didn't know that that many people would like this story.

I apologize if my geographical settings for Britain is wrong. I get my knowledge of UK geography from my good friends mapquest and Young Bond adventure books XD

If anyone is interested in joining my Yassen Community staff, please let me know. I've missed a lot of good Yassen stories when I get busy, so help is needed.

Huh. Imdb says that Point Blanc is out in 08' when it isn't due till 09' :( They really need to check up on their sources.

If anyone knows of pictures for Crawford, James, or Helen, please let me know. And the picture with Sierra/Ari is from how Joh remembers her. Picture her older and eviler(haha)at this present time.

I don't know what you think unless you tell me-review!


	10. Sooner or Later

There was a really bad typo in my last doc, so here's a better(sorta)edit. Sorry about that!(aaaaand an added disclaimer!)

Disclaimer: Dear Anthony Horowitz,

We(the writers on fanfiction) plan to kidnap Alex, Yassen, Tulip(Where did you come up with that idiotic fool's name? I want to know!)and basically every character except Sabina(and Herod Sayle, whom I do not fancy) if you refuse our demands.

For your silence, you can keep Sabina and write a series called, "Sabina Pleasure", about a girl who is brutally murdered by Yassen in multiple ways(IF I allow you to borrow Yassen for a book or two, MWAUAHAHA.)

There is no need to panic. Do not contact the police. Hand over the character rights(particularly the ever awesome Yassen)to us writers and NO ONE will be harmed(no hard feelings. It's for the best).

Much Love,

DRoA 3

See? I have already written a letter to resolve the whole, "disclaimer" problem. Now wasn't that considerate of me? :D

XXXXXXXXXXXX

"Strauss here", The soldier man said as soon as his call was answered. He remained rigidly still as an unintelligible voice buzzed out from the other side. Alex watched him listen intently and noted the name he gave.

The man hang up and cocked his head to the side, deep in thought. Alex interrupted him.

"Is that your real name?" He questioned, not too loudly for fear of angering the man. Fortunately, he caught an amused grin on the face in front of him.

"Let that slip out easily enough, did I?" He smiled halfheartedly, then resumed a remorseful glance. Alex caught him shifting his slick ebony boots uncomfortably, but made no move to speak.

"Look, Alex. This wasn't my idea...I think you should not be taken accountable for the affairs of reckless others. They choose their own lives, and should not control yours-"

"-Does this have something to do with the phone call?"

Soldier man-..._Strauss _ remained blank. "Yassen Gregorovich wants to see you."

"He's-" Alex started.

"-not dead," finished Strauss impatiently.

'_...look closer next time you watch someone die...'_

"Don't listen to anything he says, and, don't tell him anything about where you have been after Air Force One. Especially not your father."

"What does my father have to do with this? He died fourteen years ago!"

The young spy saw a spark of dispute in Strauss's eyes, but the man did not disagree. He said simply, "Yassen Gregorovich hates liars more than anything else in life. His father lied to him about his job and his mother about his father. It resulted in their own deaths along with his infant sister. It destroyed nearly all the life he had in him. If you tell him about John, it could turn him into an entirely different person. Do not feed the flame. Heaven forbid, you don't want to see the dark side of Yassen Gregorovich."

He felt his eyes fill up with liquid and shut them briefly to spare the expense of crying in front of this man. Alex could do that much at least.

"I don't understand! Even if you are telling me the truth; how could he have survived that?"

"Miracles do happen, Alex. Even to people who don't deserve them."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"_Don't leave me alone again!" The younger boy shouted. His light brown hair was messy and his eyes red with heated tears. John had to admit that Ian looked pitiful when he pouted. But there was a time to grow-up and get over it._

_And honestly, he was getting on John's last nerve._

"_You're sixteen years old! You can take care of yourself. If you can even remember, I was only seventeen when I had to take care of you."_

"_That wasn't my fault," Ian spat out. John could already see the hurt clouding in his eyes._

"_I'm not blaming you, but can't you give me some credit? Do you __**want **__to live in a foster home or orphanage while I'm gone? Because if you don't shut up about this then that's where you're going! Nobody's making me raise you Ian. I could abandon you forever in a second."_

_He realized that he had obviously made a huge mistake when the sound of a slammed door echoed throughout the apartment. _

_Why had he been so stupid? He didn't want to isolate the only living person he cared about. John knew exactly why his mood always changed unceremoniously around Ian. He was jealous and bitter about being a parent around his kid brother. Simple as that. _

_...but at twenty seven years old, he was an adult now. And Ian __**was**__ still a child. He had his parents for most of his childhood, but Ian has lost them at only six years old._

"_Great going, John," He said to himself and walked over to Ian's door._

"_Ian?" He called out softly._

"_Go away! I hate you!" __A small voice managed to yell through the wood._

_Luckily John had never been keen on the whole, 'personal space' concept and therefore Ian didn't have a lock on his door._

_...which was just another way he had screwed up as a big brother._

"_Ian?" He called gently as he awkwardly stepped through the doorway. _

_No reply._

_Ian was sitting on his bed, staring out his window at the cloud sky. Then, as if right on cue, rain started pouring down and Ian half-jumped at a sudden thunder bolt._

"_I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that," John said quietly._

"_Yes, you did. You say it all the time."_

"_I-"_

"_Forget it John," Ian took a deep breath and continued,_

_You were right. A complete stranger would be better family than you. Send me away. I won't hold it against you. I promise."_

_John blinked. This wasn't what he expected. "But I don't want you to leave Ian. I-I just..."He struggled for the right words._

"_You just don't want to be honest with me. And you only want to take care of me when you feel like it. Oh yeah, and you want to disappear for days at a time without explanation and act like that's what normal people do."_

_What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't just change the subject._

_...but...why did he have to change it? Why did he have to lie?_

"_Okay Ian. If I tell you the truth, will you give me a second chance?"_

_It was the first time John went against MI6 policy._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nobody here knew the meaning of 'Guest Room', so Alex was, as always, handcuffed to a chair in a white washed room, the first place he had been in other than the cell.

He wondered if he was going to be interrogated here; white washed walls. a wood desk with two chairs, and a mirror(obviously two-way)gave off paranoid ambiance.

Or maybe they were just messing with his mind.

Then Strauss walked in with yet another nameless minion. And-

_Definitely messing with my mind..._

The last time Alex had seen Yassen, he had been in one of the most powerful planes in the world, bleeding to death. Then, he had seemed so sure of himself at triggering a dark piece to Alex's past. He had also been at his most human.

The cold blue eyes were as soulless as their first meeting on Sayle Tower. His air as threatening as always. But there was something that had changed about Yassen that Alex couldn't pinpoint.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had gone insane and Yassen was merely a figment of his mentally insecure mind...

It seemed likely.

"Here he is. Is this enough proof?" Strauss asked.

Not acknowledging Alex's presence Yassen replied, "Leave us alone."

"I can't-"Strauss started but then saw the murderous gaze of one of the most dangerous people in the world. He changed his mind all too quickly.

"Five minutes."

The other man in the back shot Strauss a look of doubt but was nodded off and they both left quickly.

That left him alone in a room with Yassen Gregorovich(assuming he could possibly be real), and Alex felt himself shake. He wasn't shivering because of the cold.

Yassen suddenly started moving around the room, checking for something. He scanned every corner of the walls the stopped at Alex and nodded, satisfied that somebody was not tapping into their conversation.

"Hello little Alex," He greeted calmly.

Alex tried to reply but found that he had tightened his lips together out of strain. He was scared.

"I see we both have explaining to do," Yassen continued, ignoring the fact that he had received no welcome. "But it appears that your present situation is more urgent. I assume you would like to get out of here?"

He managed to nod back. It was all he could do without sounding like a complete and total child.

It was his fear that gave him away though. Yassen turned closer to Alex and paused, searching the boy's face for deception. He found what he was looking for in the tense brow, shaking legs, and a bead of sweat rolling down Alex's head.

"Why are you so alarmed Alex?"

No reply.

"Why won't you answer me? Have they hurt you?" He asked with his voice raising slightly.

_...you don't want to see the dark side of Yassen Gregorovich..._

The menacing voice screamed through Alex's brain and he shook his head trying to get it out.

Yassen took his head shaking as an answer to the last question. He remained calm, but Alex could tell he was not as friendly as when he had first walked in.

It _had_ been friendly for Yassen anyway. Alex knew no other hit men to compare him to.

_What?!?_

Alex jolted back in the chair he was bound to when Yassen leaned in dangerously close. He was close enough to-

_-kill me without anyone else having to stop him!_ Alex realized with horror. He tried to jerk away, but Yassen pulled him back by holding on to a chair arm. He looked Alex in the eyes.

"I will get you out of here Alex," He started, then turned to the side and whispered in Alex's ear, "But after I save you, I would very much like to hear what you have been up to in my absence." The voice was smooth and threatening. Alex had never heard Yassen speak to him like that.

It must have look like Yassen was trying to strangle him because Strauss lit into the room like a bomb and had his gun already out. "GETYOURHANDSOFFOFHIM!"

Yassen stood up calmly and straightened himself. He looked bored. "Excuse me?"

"You really think I would let you walk away from here alive if you killed him?!?"

"And why would you care whether this young man dies or not? You don't know him."

Strauss started to say something but stopped at the last minute and changed his comment. Speaking careful he answered, "If he dies, she'll kill me."

"Alex should fear death from your hand and not mine, sir," Yassen replied evenly.

"Y-You...said if we let you see him..." Strauss suddenly felt very small next to the other man. Unsure of himself.

"I keep my promises," Yassen replied, although it wasn't always true.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex watched in horrified fascination. He was in this deeper than he thought and doubted even Yassen could get him out of here.

And, as much as he wanted to get out; He didn't want Yassen to force the truth out of him.

That venom in the assassin's voice... No one had ever spoken to Alex in such confident cruelty. Not like this. Not now.

He had to get out of here on his own.

And he had to get away from Yassen.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen hadn't meant to become so hostile toward Alex. He wasn't used to being around a child and Alex's fear only aroused his sixth sense. He could practically smell the deception dripping off of John Rider's son.

And he didn't like it one bit. He had cheated death and saved the life of this teenager twice. And now the same person-a child-was lying to him?

Though he doubted anyone knew it, Yassen hated liars.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_The bright eyes made him so content. He hadn't seen Ian happy in days...well, years actually. He had finally done something right as a brother._

_John told Ian everything about MI6, his enemies, his allies, and people who didn't fit in a category, but rather were simply there in the moment._

"_I can't believe this John." Ian smiled, entirely entranced by the world of secrecy._

"_It's true. For once...it's true," John said, nearly smiling. Ian look up at him with admiration. He had never seemed proud of his brother before._

"_I'm sorry John. I thought you...were just trying to get away from here because you hated me."_

"_It's all I know Ian. I had to do it. If you were me and had to watch mum and dad die the way I did-you would do the same."_

"_I love you John."Ian hugged John tightly, afraid he might disappear again. "And...I want to be just like you one day!"_

_John frowned." No Ian. You wouldn't like my life. You'll never have to leave for days at a time without notice or risk your life every second of the day. And you'd be a good parent. You won't make the same mistakes I do Ian."_

_He couldn't tell whether his brother was listening or not._

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She looked like she was in her mid forties. Older than him.

But not necessarily more experienced.

Ashen hair, vibrant eyes, and an darkly energized mood. He could see how this woman maintained a strong underworld career.

Or she could have just killed off someone else with an underworld and taken credit for it.

Frankly, he didn't care either way.

"Mr. Gregorovich." She paused, weighing the name up on her tongue. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Is it? And whom do I owe the _pleasure_?" He drew out his last word slowly for maximum effect.

"My name is Sierra Strauss. I think you've already met my brother."

"The pitiable young man that's playing guard? How very unfortunate for you. But then, we can't choose our family now, can we?"

A small fire lit up in her eyes, but it wasn't directed at Yassen. "He does his job," She said shortly. Sierra reached back to push a strip of her long hair out of her face. She wasn't young, but still had that youthful inferno that made her appear younger than she truly was. Yassen was not unlike her.

"And his job is kidnapping a teenager? How quaint. I suppose he couldn't handle anyone older?"

"You have this all wrong, Mr. Gregorovich. I'm not who you think I am; a criminal. I'm taking back what's rightfully mine. And I'm trying to help you."

"Help me? I wasn't aware I was in trouble," He smirked but kept a hand close to his pocketed gun.

"You have been lied to."

Yassen paused. She had his full attention.

"You have been lied to by John Rider."

Yassen would have laughed if only he had known how to. "John Rider is dead. The dead do not lie."

_What does she hope to achieve by this?_

"Actually, he is alive. Oh, and he should be here in no time at all. Spies are rather quick to find their destination you understand."

"You're crazy," Yassen observed.

"Oh no. Not at all. I just wanted to warn you ahead of time. I understand that you respect a little honesty, Yassen," Sierra purred out.

"I-how-...Why should I believe the word of a stranger?"

"Because I have the proof. I've been watching MI6 like a hawk. An otherwise very good agent _forgot _to file his report. I sent spies to check up on it. The MI6 agent and a doctor found him; John that is. Alive. Would you like to see John Rider again? I'm sure he has a lot of explaining to do."

Yassen was unsure of what to say.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Crawford had no plan to proceed with. John could be anywhere. Jack was still recovering. Alex was... He had no idea what had happened to Alex. Then, if MI6 found out about this, he would lose his job and, probably, go to jail.

Probably.

In his concentration, Crawford failed to notice David's movement. A quick, sharp hit to his head brought him back to earth. Or, rather brought him out of it.

_I am turning completely senile..._Crawford thought as his world faded to black.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She had given him a pick for the handcuffs and David had used it when the agent wasn't looking. It had been simpler than he expected.

The doctor was easy to take down after that. It was so easy he felt guilty, actually. The computer was right in front of him, beckoning to be taken. David carefully slipped the flash drive out of his pocket and put it into a front outlet.

_Clone all files?_

_Yes.- No._

He pressed 'Yes'.

_5 seconds until download complete._

_...Done._

He took the drive out and finished the job.

_Erase all information stored?_

_Yes.- No._

With one final movement he cut off a million medical documentation's that scientists had worked their whole lives to discover.

Hopefully they were smart enough to have their own copies.

David would bring the files for her, let Gregorovich kill Rider, and then he would kill Gregorovich.

He had to admit it was a good plan.

John was, of course, on the right trail. This was mostly due to the fact that he had been trailing behind Yassen, and then he stopped at the old soap factory and overheard the two men:

"_She won't let Alex go, if that's what you want."_

It was all John needed to hear to understand what had happened. If he was lucky enough to have not been seen by Yassen-an older Yassen, he reminded himself, then he would have an even chance to follow them all the way to his son.

_If _it was his son.

_If _this wasn't a nightmare.

He privately hoped it _was_ a nightmare.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen waited. The woman-he rarely called anyone by their name-left him to himself while he 'decided' on what to do.

He _knew _what he was going to do. He would break Alex out and leave. Quick and effective methods were best. They left little room for doubt. This woman was obviously mad to some extent, so there was no reason to listen.

His subconscious kept pointing toward the man in the alley and Sierra's crazed rants. He ignored it and scanned the area, counting the rooms and halls trying to sum up where they were keeping Alex.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Alex noticed nothing unusual at first. Another guard came in to check on him. He didn't look different from the others really. In his twenties. Short hair. Plain attire. Something about the look he received put Alex off though. The man just walked in and stopped, as if he was in sudden pain.

Trying to get a better view of the man, Alex noticed something unusual that he couldn't place.

"You...are Alex?"

It came out as a small voice for such a lean man and surprised Alex.

"Well I'm not James Bond now, am I?" He said haughtily. Perhaps he was in an Asylum and some of the prisoners had escaped.

"Alex-I..." The fair haired man looked like he was about to say something, but stopped.

"Who are you?" Alex asked, noticing the nervous gaze scanning the room. The other man wasn't a guard. He wasn't supposed to be here.

"There's no time to explain. MI6 sent me. I'm here to get you out."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The two front posts didn't report this hour."

Sierra breathed deeply. He came sooner than she had expected.

"Of course. I'm sure they're very busy."

"But-"

"But nothing! Take a break. There's no need to become unsettled. It's under control." She then turned to the other man in the room and smiled. "Your part of the deal is ready Mr. Javenson. You can leave."

And he did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He saw Alex first. The boy looked good. He was not being pinned down by heartless criminals or interrogated with an Aztec labyrinth come alive. Yes, he looked good in Yassen's opinion.

And then a man appeared behind the teenager and Alex glanced back, not with any insecurity.

_MI6 maybe?_

They were closer now. Yassen was, after all, blocking an exit and Alex had not noticed him.

_Never mind. _The man had just seen him.

And a little too late at that. They were less than seven feet away.

"We don't want any trouble," The man said calmly, looking very much familiar to Yassen. He knew _exactly_ whom he looked like, but Yassen would not give in to these mind games.

"Neither do I," He replied coolly and continued," You did your job and got Alex out, but I after all, did come here first, and used my valuable time at that to do it. I deserve to speak with him after my labor and your lies will no stop me." His last line was, of course, referring to the resemblance that kept Yassen not far from insanity.

The man blinked, clearly in doubt. "You know Alex?"

Yassen ignored his question and unconsciously went for his gun. "Leave. Tell MI6 that I used force. Leave now and I will let you live." His gun was out now, pointing toward the left, near the MI6 man.

"_No Yassen." _

The word shocked Yassen. It was said in such venom and the brown eyes of the other man looked hardened with force.

Yassen wanted nothing more than to kill him.

He twisted his gun handle and turned closer to the right angle, then pushed down, and started to fire the shot.

His movement was quick. The man would never see it coming.

"No!" Alex screamed suddenly speaking and confirming his near empty presence.

_Bang! _The shot fired, hitting a target without fail.

But the bullet did not come from Yassen's gun, and John Rider was not harmed.

He, instead, was looking in horror at his son's bleeding form on the floor.

The assassin moved faster than John. He took in Alex and spun, looking for the shooter.

Standing behind him was the American soldier who had tried to strangle him to death outside the metro. The man was staring at Alex.

"I-I didn't mean to shoot him! You turned at the last minute, I didn't see the boy!" He sobbed.

Yassen shot him in the arm without a second thought and pulled out a small but very sharp knife, wanting to make the death as painful as possible in case Alex did not survive.

He remembered the MI6 agent at the last minute and pocketed the knife once again. He didn't have the time for vengeance.

It could wait.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

His vision was blurry as light streamed through.

"_Alex?"_

He knew that voice. Ian had spoken to him in a tone like that when he was just a little child. But it wasn't Ian's voice.

"_I know you. Who are you?" _He asked, managing to slur the words a few syllables.

The man looked at him with eyes the same color of his own. There was no deception. No hate. No movement.

"_I'm your father Alex. And I'm very sorry. For everything."_

Alex didn't stay awake for the rest. And he didn't faint. He just went into a stunned state, somewhere between sleep and limbo.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen had heard him, but it was not in the tone his teacher had ever used. But still-

It was him.

"...John?" He said, meaning to say it as a fact, but ending up questioning himself.

"Yes," The other man said as confirmation, taking Yassen's comment as a question.

"You never died? You faked it all these years?"

"I didn't fake anything."

"What?-"Yassen started before he felt something hit his lower skull.

John started up with the site of another armed man, but stopped at the sight of a gun in his direction.

"I'm not going to hurt you John," Said the man.

"Of course," John replied with sarcasm, but was still annoyed to discover that yet another person knew his name.

"Don't you remember me? I was at your wedding."

He tried to place the face, but couldn't. His wedding had been small, but that was years ago. When he was happy and things were different.

"Peter Strauss, your brother-in-law. Or ex brother-in-law I should say. I've grown up . I was in my late teens when we last met."

"And you're working for big sister? You were the whole time, weren't you?"

"I was young and stupid then. I've changed."

John eyed the gun with distaste. "I can tell."

Peter didn't look offended. "I hid Alex from her after you...left. I knew where he was the entire time and never told her. I tried to save him from a different life."

"What do you mean, 'tried'?" John asked.

Peter shook his head in light defiance. "Ask your son. We're running out of time," He said while putting his arm down and shifting the gun away from John. "Alex is hurt. Take him before Gregorovich wakes up." He started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" John asked, his voice echoing through the empty halls.

"To..._do something I should have a long time ago."_

And then he was no longer there.

John glanced at the unconscious man he had once know before lifting a semi conscious Alex up and carrying him out of the building.

_There's no way for me to explain. _He thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yassen woke several hours later to a completely empty building. John and Alex were gone. The American was nowhere to be seen. And he wanted nothing more than to ring the neck of the man or woman who had struck him into the dark abyss.

A memory of his childhood suddenly filled Yassen. He wasn't sure why.

And he frowned, uttering a single pained sentence filled with cold recollections from years past,

"_Never again."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N-Whew! That was a long 5,000 words :) I'll have the epilogue up by the end of this week...which is the next two day really...

The sequel will be called, "On A Hiding To Nothing." Which is a phrase meaning; To be faced with a situation which is pointless, as a successful outcome is impossible."

You probably already knew that, but hey...

Let me know what you thought of this story(which is Part 1), and what characters/ideas you want to see? Also, what should the setting/s be? It has to be somewhere other than the UK(I'm sure you can't handle too much of my James Bond geography knowledge anyway, lol)

Review!


	11. Epilogue

Epilogue

John Rider

I knew that I had shattered the harmony of day and blown it. The calm silence of the sea where he could have been happy and simply lived was lost. And then, as if it was needed, I fired my shot once again to kill; where once my bullets lodged without leaving a trace. But not this time. Alex was pulled in because of me, John Rider.

And suddenly I knew I was knocking four times quick on the door of bitterness that could drown my life again.

Jack Starbright

Today, a visiting agent informed me that Alex was in danger.

I said,

"_No duh."_

The knife cut nearly an inch deep. But the wounds Alex carries goes my deeper than my own.

John Crawford

I thought bringing John back would feel good. Maybe I could be the friend I never was. A friend like-…Ash. Ash had been his friend.

I can see now that John will never trust anyone again.

Alex Rider

Even though my father has risen from the dead and saved my life, I feel like something has just started because of this. I once saw MI6 as my greatest enemy. Now I realize that they were just a mask to cover up my own past.

I left and danger still came. Danger will always come.

I might as well find it first.

No worries.

To Be Continued…

A/N-I'm sorry for the super (SUPER)short chapter. It actually ended up being very long with several more POVs, but I realized that they foreshadowed too much of the plot for the second part of this story. Thankfully, I have now written out an actual plot(GASP: I have a plan?!?).

I am incredibly sorry about the delay. My main comp had a virus, broke down, and I had to buy a new computer, then call Microsoft(sometimes I feel like that company is the root of all evil o_O)and reinstall Word Doc to my new computer. Disorganized much? Naaaah….

Link to .net/s/4958720/1/On_A_Hiding_To_Nothing


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